


Plaid and Platinum

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: Plaid and Platinum [3]
Category: Dark City (1998), Mirrors (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Angst and Porn, Background Femslash, Everyone Is Gay, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musicians Ben Carson & Larry Byrne have spent years toiling to get this far in the music business despite humble beginnings and the scandal that ended their previous band. Now, as band leaders of the hit rock group A Single Syringe, they're set to take Europe by storm. But when Ben's ex-wife and former bandmate threatens legal action for the use of old material the two best friends have to face that it could be the end of their dream... unless the two of them are brave enough to come clean about a deeply burried secret that could tear the band apart.<br/>AKA: Everyone's a Rock Star and has hot angsty sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1: The Players

**Part 1: The Players**  
  


**John Murdoch**

            Frank Bumstead held up the remains of my costume and sighed. "We're going to have to take Daniel on the road with us."

            Beside me, our guitarist and band leader gave a low growl, lighting a cigarette. "No. We've discussed this before, Frank. Daniel's not going on tour." Ben Carson was an old hand at this - his first band, 'The Reflections', had three number one singles in a row and both their albums had gone platinum. The trouble was that he'd married the bassist, who'd taken off to Brazil with their lead singer the day before their European tour, leaving Ben and their drummer to pick up the pieces. The resulting scandal had killed the band's chance at recovery, but a good chunk of the fans had stayed loyal and followed them over when they'd formed our current band. Ben had been the primary songwriter for 'The Reflections', and the critics called our band his rebirth, said that the mixture of anger and melancholy in the music of 'A Single Syringe' showed a maturity and depth that 'The Reflections' had badly needed.

            I was just here to sing. And to be pretty, as our manager so often reminded me. He glared at me now over the remains of the pinstripe and leather suit. "How the hell do you wreck your clothes like this, John?"

            I shrugged and gave him a winning smile. "Can I help it if the fans can't resist my pretty green eyes? I stage dive and they all want a piece of me. They eat it up. You're the one that told me to interact with the crowd as much as possible."

            Frank nodded with a little frown. "This is true. We've got thirty concerts lined up in a two month period, we can't afford to be delayed by wardrobe malfunctions. We'll need Daniel with us, Ben. I'm sorry."

            Ben took a long drag of his cigarette, lips shifting together in annoyance. "Look. I had one condition for hiring my brother to manage our look, and that was no tours. I know what goes on during tours. I don't want him exposed to that."

            "I think everyone knows what happens when _you_ go on tour," Frank replied, watching him evenly. "We're running this one by my rules, Ben. We can't hush things up in Europe like we did on the west coast. No parties between shows, no drinking, and for god sakes, no stripping. All the industry events are going to have very tight security for your safety and the safety of your public image. And all the fan events are completely dry. We need your image to be a hundred percent. So we take Daniel with us or we cancel this whole thing right now."

            We had a week before flying out. Our roadies were already in London, readying the venue for five days worth of shows with one of two identical stagings. The second stage would be up and ready for us when we reached Pairs two days after the last show in London. Cancelling now would be disastrous, especially after what had happened with 'The Reflections' European tour. The media would have a heyday.

            Ben glared at the cigarette in his fingers, and I imagined he was regretting bringing on a manager - he'd done most of that work for 'The Reflections' himself, only hiring tour managers that were more like assistants. "Fine. You're the boss."

            "Good. I've hired on the girls we used on the west coast tour to do Europe with us," Frank said, leaning back in his chair. "We need a more permanent keyboardist, and with the violin we can make the 'Sometime Around Midnight' cover a staple."

            Larry, our drummer, was the one to speak this time, glancing to where Ben sat with a carefully blank look on his face. "I'd really rather not...."

            Frank glanced to Ben as well and frowned. "Look, it was 'The Reflections' first number one, half the people buying your tickets will cream themselves if you play it. As far as I'm concerned the bitch took enough from you already, make the damn song yours again."

            "It's not that..." Larry started, but Ben shook his head.

            "It's fine. We'll do it. John does it better than whats his nuts anyway."

            I grinned and shrugged. 'The Reflections' old singer was absolutely never referred to by name. "I'll sing whatever you throw at me." We'd mostly done the band's old material when we first started out, so I was familiar with the songs. It had just been the three of us then - Larry had picked me up in a New York bath house, quite literally, not finding out until afterwards that I was there to perform in the adjoining bar. I'd been singing all my life - choral work as a child at first, but I'd balked against my parent's attempts to make me go classical and tried for Broadway instead. At sixteen I met a theatre manager who gave me my first fake ID and got me started on my three and a half years of singing glam rock covers at various gay establishments in New York.

            The money was better than Broadway. So was the sex.

            I didn't have any song writing talent to speak of, but I was versatile enough to cover anything from soulful country to growling metal. All it took for Larry to convince Ben that I was "just what they needed" was for me to belt out a few verses of 'Sweet Child O' Mine'.

            They hadn't done anything since the disbandment two years prior, so we started small. We did a couple of underground, un-advertised concerts in New York in little bars, and from word of mouth alone they ended up far over capacity with old fans of 'The Reflections'. For the first time I had women's underwear thrown at me instead of mens. It was rather empowering, even if it was a little disturbing.

            After that, Ben had hired Frank Bumstead to manage things. He brought us our permanent bassist, Leon, who looked barely legal, but he was incredibly talented and versatile and his high energy, happy-go-lucky stage presence ended up being a surprising draw for high school girls. If he seemed a little more familiar with Frank than was strictly business like we didn't ask any questions. You couldn't help but like Leon, and Frank was fast getting us exactly where we wanted to go.

            Frank had some interesting ideas about marketing a band that involved quality over quantity - we still only had one album, even though we'd released four singles from it that had done very well - but we still spent more time on stage than in the studio. His connections were good, and we'd opened for a number of big names on the east coast that had drawn people back when we'd started headlining. He was also convinced that the entertainment value of performing was just as important as the music itself, leading to elaborate sets, playlists that changed every night of a tour, and enough costume and set changes that even I was a bit overwhelmed. His favourite argument was, 'It worked for The Grateful Dead, didn't it?' Though I'm not sure he realized how often he said it.

            This was where Ben's brother Daniel came in.

            They'd been raised apart, apparently, the product of divorced parents. Their mother had taken four year old Daniel back to Germany where he'd been raised with her native tongue and her last name, while Ben, at seven, had stayed with their father in the apartment above his New York recording studio. At eighteen Daniel had fled back to America when he'd won a full scholarship at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, escaping his mother's pressure to train to take over her psychiatric practice. He was in his final year of a BFA in Fashion when I first met him, when Ben had mentioned his name to Frank to consult on costume designs.

            I'd sat in the back of the car with Larry on the way down to FIT, Ben on the phone to his brother and Frank at the wheel. "Hey. You finished take down yet? What do you mean, who do I have with me? Yeah, I've got Lar. And our manager, and our lead singer. What? Is he cute? How the hell should I know? Yeah, he's about Lar's height. Daniel - " he was silent for a long moment, listening, and I glanced over to Larry questioningly. He just grinned and shrugged.

            "Take a left here. Now. Now!" Ben said to Frank, and we swung wildly through an intersection, pulling up a few moments later at the back security gate for FIT. Ben leaned over Frank. "Hey, we've got models for the runway show. Where's the back entrance for the main stage?"

            It seemed an ingenious ruse to get us in. But Ben was out of the car as soon as we pulled up to the doors in question, opening his arms to a smaller blond man who burst out the back doors to embrace him tightly.

            "Ben! _Himmel donner wetter_ , you won't even believe the day I've had. Thank god you're here."

            I watched the two as I got out of the car. Ben's brother was smaller, slighter, and had round, wire-rimmed glasses that made him look more prim and proper than his brother. He wore a charcoal grey vest over a black button down shirt with matching gray pants, like a suit missing its jacket. Ben had the kind of rugged good looks that made him an ideal rock star, but somehow while they shared very similar features, on Daniel they were more fine. He was... gorgeous.

            Larry elbowed me in the ribs. "Hey, no twin fantasies.

            I put on my best innocent grin. "Why, 'cause you're first in line?"

            "I thought your show was opening," Ben was saying. "What happened?"

            "I was," Daniel replied with a frown, and I found the German accent surprisingly sexy. "But two of my _dorf trottel_ models went on a bender and ended up in the drunk tank last night. They moved me to the finish so that we could try and get them out. We have not had much luck."

            "Couldn't you just borrow models from another designer?"

            Daniel gave a soft laugh. "Unfortunately I don't design clothes for anorexic Nancy boys." He looked towards Larry and me at that, looking us over critically before giving a nod. "Good, you should do. Come with me, please."

            "I can help if you need," Ben offered as we followed him into the building, and that made Daniel smile, shaking his head.

"No, _mein Herz_ , you and I are too short. I will just take full advantage of your handsome band mates."

            "You're making me blush," Larry joked, grinning. "Daniel, this is John Murdoch."

            "Of course, your new singer." He turned to me as we reached the end of the hall, his smile softer as his gaze met mine. "I've heard very good things about you, John. I'm pleased to finally meet you. Daniel Schreber."

            I took his offered hand and gave a light squeeze, keeping eye contact and giving him my best 'come hither' smile, satisfied to see the tips of his ears turn pink. "I see this is where Ben's dose of charm ended up."

            "Fuck you," Ben replied, pushing past us into the room, and I regretfully let go of Daniel's hand to follow.

            "Thank you for agreeing to help," Daniel said, still smiling, watching me, and it seemed that the accent was much less pronounced now that he'd relaxed a little, which was a bit of a shame.

            "It's no problem," I replied with a smile. "Um, what exactly are we doing?"

            "Fashion show," Larry answered, coming in behind me, already pulling his t-shirt off over his head. There were two young men with a lanky blonde woman already inside, dressed in what was undoubtedly runway fashion - impeccably tailored suits with artistic flare that no one but a celebrity could get away with wearing on the streets. One of the men gave Larry a grin and a wave, the white ruffles that edged his coat swirling around his wrist, and Larry winked back before toeing off his sneakers and dropping his jeans. "How many outfits, Daniel?"

            "Three each," he replied, already re-arranging the rack of clothing that was inside the room. He took one hanger off and handed it to Ben. "It's my whole fall collection. The changes are quick but Ben and I will help, and my dresser... wherever she is. John, can you strut?"

            "Strut?" I replied dumbly, trying to ignore the fact that Ben's very good looking younger brother was unbuttoning my shirt.

            "Just do Adam Lambert," Larry replied with a grin. "He'll be fine, Daniel."

            Five minutes later I was dressed in a pearl gray double breasted seersucker suit with a matching fedora. The bottom of the suit jacket was cut asymmetrically, and the hat and jacket were both trimmed with large, ragged black lace appliqué that struck me as being very urban. The pants were only a little long, pinned up carefully in the dressing room. "Can I keep this?" I asked Daniel as we approached the back of the runway, and he chuckled softly.

            "If you care to place a bid after the show, Mr. Murdoch," he replied with a smile. He patted the small of my back lightly - rather higher than I wished he'd be patting me - and sent me out after Larry, who was clad in hunter green and black plaid skinny trousers and a distressed black leather bomber-style jacket. He looked good, I had to admit. I tried to emulate his strut, catching his glance as we passed and smiling at his self-assured, lopsided grin. This wasn't all that different from performing, after all. More camera flashes. Less screaming.

            I was still wearing the steel gray greatcoat and knee-high riding boots I'd finished the show in when we sat down with Frank around the small table in the dressing room. Frank had stayed out of the way during the show, quietly watching the models walk by, appraising. He didn't waste time. "I want three designs for each of the four band members, preferably on a theme, with two of them being as showy as the pieces you have here. And I want a new design for each major tour. I want the band's image to be completely dictated by you. Can we afford you?"

            Daniel had his arms folded on the table, and he looked slowly around the room at us all before pushing his glasses up on his nose. "By standard pricing at this stage of the game... probably not. What you are asking could end up being a very stiff commitment for me and it was not exactly the direction I had intended to take with my career. But." He paused, contemplating. "I think there are ways to do things that will work for all of us. Guarantee me right of first refusal for all of the band's future costuming needs. Give me two weeks per year of the band's time for promotional work such as modeling shoots, and if you are willing to pay material costs up front I will contract to the work for a small percentage of the band's profits."

            Frank was silent for a moment, and I could see him struggling to keep the surprise from his expression. "That's very generous of you."

            "Perhaps," Daniel agreed, but glanced over to Ben with a little smile. "But you forget that I know my brother, Mr. Bumstead. I know I will not regret making this my asking price."

            The pinstripe and leather number that the fans had shredded was the sixth piece Daniel had done for me. I took it to his small workshop after the meeting, rapping a rhythm on the back door while I waited. Daniel smiled when he saw me, pulling the door open and letting me inside. "I received a call from Frank earlier. It seems he believes you can't be trusted to keep your costumes in one piece in Europe."

            "I can't," I replied candidly, setting the bag with the costume down on his work table. Truthfully, the damage wasn't completely from the fans.

            Daniel frowned as he took out the jacket - or the pieces of it - examining which tears were in the fabric and which were just split seams. "I think your next piece is going to look like it was torn apart and sewn back together from the beginning. It will make my work much easier."

            I chuckled softly, stepping closer and letting an arm slide around his waist. "And we can try it out ourselves the first time?"

            He cast me a bemused look at set the pieces aside. Then he stroked a hand up my arm to rest against my neck, fingers stroking affectionately through the dark curls of my hair. "Thank you for arranging for me to join the tour, John. The others do not suspect anything, do they?"

            I shook my head, rather wishing that they did. I wasn't used to hiding my relationships. But at least he'd be there; touring for weeks on end without him was agony. "No. Not at all."

            "Good." Daniel leaned up, pressing his lips to my own, a soft kiss that quickly drew more yearning, my arms tight around his waist. His voice was low and husky against my mouth. "I look forward to seeing Paris with you."

***


	2. Act 2: The Stage

**Larry Byrne**

            "I decided to become a rock star so I'd never have to cook for myself again." Frank was waiting for us when we got into the studio, reading through an interview we'd recently done in a magazine. He lowered the copy of Maxim and gave me an even look. "That's not what we decided on."

            I rolled my eyes. "But it's true! Seriously, all that stuff about dreams and self expression is for, like, GQ and Rolling Stone. The stuff Leon's high school girls read. This is Maxim. You told me to connect more with real men. Real men hate cooking."

            Leon chuckled under his breath from where he sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch, tightening the strings on his bass. Frank ignored him, closing the magazine and set it down on the arm of the studio couch. "You then admitted to exploding eggs in the microwave and setting nachos on fire."

            "The interviewer thought it was hilarious."

            "The interviewer also thought that your ban from any and all kitchens should be increased to twenty years." Ben grabbed his guitar case from the rack where he'd left it the night before, flipping the latches open. His baby of choice over the past couple of years was a compact, semi-hollow Gibson, the body gold sunburst on black. It had a rich tone with a bit of a bite, and I personally preferred it to the solid body electrics he'd been using when we were in 'The Reflections'. He perched on a stool and began to tune.

            "I'm inclined to agree," Frank replied, disappearing into the control room as our vocalist finally breezed in through the door.

            " _I have often walked down this street before. But the pavement's always stayed beneath my feet before~_ "

            Ben looked up at John, then glanced over at me. "What the hell is he singing?"

            I shrugged. "My Fair Lady, I think. Maybe being a choir geek is like being a band geek."

            "Always a choir geek," John agreed, grinning as Leon began to pick out the melody to the song on his bass, continuing to sing. " _All at once am I several stories high...._ "

            Ben rolled his eyes. "John, get in the booth, you have less traumatizing things to be signing."

            " _knowing I'm on the street -_ "

            "John..."

            " _Where you -_ "

            Frank's voice came over the com from the recording booth. "Get your pretty little ass in the booth, Murdoch. We've only got five days to wrap this."

            "Live?" John finished the line and grinned, then scooted into the booth. The walls of the studio were still wood paneled, and I always felt like I was living in the seventies when we recorded, but Ben's father still technically owned the studio, so we got time extremely cheap. I made a mental note to suggest we buy and renovate as soon as we had the cash. For now I listened as John started in on our next single, a heavy power ballad we'd called 'Memories of Shell Beach', all about unrequited love. It was rather the opposite of my happy, teasing friend, but he could emote with the best of them, perching on the tall stool and crooning broken-heartedness into the microphone. It was what had made me think of him as something more than a one night stand, back when we'd first met, sitting in the bar and watching the way he took the crowd from romance to heartbreak to joy with the emotion in his voice. We wrapped with John in two recordings, which was good - we had another four songs to go through if we wanted to get the new album to press before we left.

            Later I sat outside the building with him, having a cigarette. He seemed strangely quiet and troubled, and I half watched him as I smoked, knowing he'd speak to me when he was ready. Finally he leaned closer, catching my gaze with earnest green eyes. "Have you ever been in love with someone who didn't want anyone to know that you're involved?"

            The question was so unexpected that I choked on my cigarette, losing breath a fit of coughing, and John patted my back lightly. But he wasn't talking about me, right? Finally I looked back, eyes watering. "Sorry. I thought - never mind. Who?"

            He frowned and glanced away. "Promised I wouldn't say."

            It was a little strange that it would matter whether or not he told me, unless... I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess... you and Daniel stopped making eyes at each other and finally got somewhere?"

            I could see a flush creep up his neck. "Was I that obvious?"

            I snorted. "Are you kidding? You didn't need that many costume fittings, John. Or adjustments. Or repairs. You forget who you're talking to, I know all the tricks in the book. Mr. 'Could you double check my inseam measurement, please'?"

            I'd used a couple of my better tricks on him back when we first met, which he certainly hadn't seemed to mind. The sex had been great, but there hadn't been any deeper connection than friendship between the two of us, and we'd never been exclusive. As far as the band was concerned, Frank had told us very firmly that we were both bisexual, and I had to try not to laugh any time it came up. Flirting with women I could handle, sure. I'd had enough fag hags in my time. Anything beyond that, well... the closest I'd come to pussy had been the day I was born. John struck me as not too different.

            He cleared his throat, staring down at his boots. "Just don't tell Ben...."

            "Don't worry." I leaned into him, taking another drag of my cigarette. "It's not you, you know. Daniel's always been very quiet about his private life. And with everything that happened with Amy, well...."

            "Yeah, I understand it," he replied with a little frown. "I don't particularly want Ben to kill me in my sleep either. I just... Daniel...."

            I patted his back gently. "I know. He's adorable. Definitely risky business."

            John glanced up at me questioningly. "And you'd know?"

            "We hooked up once, shortly after he first came over from Germany." I shrugged, trying not to think too much about the episode. "Before all that shit with Amy went down. Sweet boy. The sex was just a bit of a disaster."

            John chuckled, clearly not believing it for a moment. "What, you called him someone else's name?"

            Fuck. I looked away, feeling my ears heat up. I had, but it wasn't just that - the name alone could have been forgivable. The problem had been Daniel's reaction, the way blue eyes had held my gaze intently as I stammered my apologies. Then he'd pushed me onto my back, straddling my hips and leaning in to growl against my ear: "Say it again." The resulting sex had been wild and hot and dirty the way things tend to be when you really shouldn't be doing them. We didn't speak of it again, and the way he looked at me the next morning over breakfast - kind and pitying and somehow completely understanding - wasn't something I could handle a second time. So we didn't have sex again, either.

            John was staring at me, looking slightly horrified. "Oh god, Lar, I was only kidding. Did you really? But why on earth would you...." he stopped, mouth opening and closing again. "Oh god. Ben?"

            "No," I lied, tossing away the butt of his cigarette and lighting another, taking a long drag. "Just forget I said anything."

            John took my pack from me and lit one as well, smoking with me, silent for a long moment. "I'm taking it this is more than just being hot for his ass. Does he know?"

            Did he know. Christ, I wouldn't even know where to start with John in terms of my relationship with Ben. "John...."

            "Are you going to tell him?"

            "No, and neither are you." I gave me a hard look. "Leave it be, John. I've lived with this since I met him, let me handle it."

            He let out a long breath. "You are so much more of a masochist than I thought. Haven't you ever wondered - "

            "Yes. And realized that it would be a very bad idea," I replied, refusing to meet his gaze and taking another drag of my cigarette.

            "But - "

            "I'd rather have what I do than nothing at all," I said, the words coming out harder than I'd intended. "End of conversation. And stop smoking, you'll wreck your voice."

            "True," John admitted, taking another drag before tossing it into the gutter. He caught my gaze with his own. "Lar... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... if there's anything I can do...."

            I couldn't fault his concern for me, as much as I would have liked to have avoided ever having this conversation. "It's okay. Just... don't tell Ben."

            "Don't tell Ben," he agreed, following me as I flicked away my cigarette and headed back inside.

            There were two girls in the studio when I got in, looking a little awkward as they waited by the door. I recognized them right away, heading over with a warm smile. "Hey sweethearts, how have things been? Frank says you're coming to Europe with us?"

             May Jensen and Anna Williams looked like something out of an old film Noir, all curves and sultry smiles, and Daniel had dressed them accordingly for the west coast tour. I liked them - they were sweet and hard working and set off my gaydar something fierce when they were together, though I didn't say anything about it. May smiled and gave me a tight squeeze, her blonde, shoulder length hair like silk against my face. She'd worn it in pin curls on stage, well out of the way of her violin. "We sure are, sugar. Really excited about it, and not just for the free trip."

            "Good. Because I've never worked with a lovelier pair of ladies." We'd worked with a number of session musicians in the past but it didn't surprise me too much that Frank would bring these two in on a more permanent basis. We'd gotten on well on the west coast tour, and the girls had gone out drinking with us on more than one occasion. Having May on my arm was doubly useful, both in keeping away bandwhores and giving me a bit of a beard that I could easily take off at the end of the night. "Did Frank bring you in for the costume fitting later?"

            Anna shook her head, chestnut hair sleek and shiny. "He said he wanted to record 'Sometime Around Midnight', but... they've been in there since we got here."

            I'd noticed Ben in the control room with Frank when I came in, but hadn't paid enough attention to note the rather serious discussion that was going on behind the glass. I knocked lightly before opening the door. "Everything okay?"

            "He wants to record it," Ben told me, mouth drawn in a thin line. "It's too risky, Frank."

            "Just as a bonus track," Frank explained. "The Tapers are already distributing your live performances all over the internet anyway. We'll give them something official. You need to get your version recorded."

            Ben shook his head. "Frank, I wasn't the lyricist for 'Sometime Around Midnight'. If whats-his-nuts decides he wants in on the licensing fees..."

            "I'll take care of it," Frank replied, touching his shoulder, voice low and soothing. "They have very little legal right to your old material, they gave that up when they left the band. I have experience in this area, that's why you hired me. You focus on the music and let me take care of making you all money. All right?"

            Ben gave a soft sigh, defeated, but nodded. "All right, fine. Let’s get it over with."

            John was already back in the booth with headphones on, and he gave us a grin and a thumbs up in encouragement. It was easier to do a couple of takes with the whole band. More cohesive. I knew Frank would spend a good bit of time with the girls, recording the different violin pieces and syncing them together with the synth cello. They'd probably do a new backing track to use live while they were at it, which would be a relief - we were still using the string score we'd used with 'The Reflections', and this one would be built more to the nuances of John's vocal stylings.

            I resolved to be long gone before I had to listen to the song played twenty times over, and was suddenly very thankful that we'd crammed a costume fitting in this afternoon. As much as Ben hated playing the song - the media had turned it into this huge thing about it prophesying the breakup of his marriage - it had a very different meaning for me, one that I'd tried to hide for a very long time. With Amy gone and with everything that had happened to Ben and I... it was just too personal.

            I slipped into the drum booth and pulled on the big ass headphones that let me hear everyone else. Then I wrapped the drum track in one take and went back outside for another cigarette.

            Daniel was at a dress form when we arrived at his studio, a half-finished mermaid dress made of a deep red taffeta pinned to the form. He had a few straight pins held between his lips, and gave a wave towards us before tucking another into the dress, adjusting the drape of the top of the skirt. Behind him, the girl who'd been his dresser at the show sat at a machine with another length of red taffeta.

            "The girls will look stunning in red," Ben said, and Daniel smiled around the pins, pulling the last few from his mouth and sticking them in the bare fabric of the dress form at the top.

            "I thought so too. Mr. Bumstead asked me to pull the black dresses out of storage and make sure of the fit, but I thought it would be more showy if they had at least one costume change, and there was room in the materials budget, so...."

            "And you like making evening gowns," Ben remarked with a little smirk.

            "I do," Daniel replied without hesitation, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He gave a little approving nod, then glanced over to us. "Why are you standing around? Get naked."

            The theme of this tour's new threads was red plaid, which I hadn't been completely sure about at first. Gingers were generally supposed to stay away from reds, and plaid was too close to tartan which was too close to being one of those bands that looked like they tried to capitalize on Braveheart and failed. I shouldn't have doubted Daniel, though.

            I was the only one in a kilt, but it was more like what Daniel informed me to be a Utilikilt - still kilt-like but more fitted, with butt pockets and a big ass cargo pocket on one side. It was set with studs along the front panel, and had a belted black leather waistband that came up to almost my ribs when I tried it on. There was a long-sleeved shirt to go with it that I wasn't sure I'd wear on stage - drumming was hot and I generally ended up as naked as possible - but it would be sexy for shoots, all strips of shiny black lyrca sewn together with black stretch mesh in the gaps. I stuffed my feet back into my boots after pulling it on and smirked at myself in the full length mirror. Maybe I'd fauxhawk my hair for this. "I lied, I became a rock star for the fucking sexy clothes."

            Ben laughed from where he was doing up his red plaid trousers, which were remarkably slimming despite his well muscled thighs. I tried to ignore the way he looked me over, admiring his outfit instead as he pulled on the black button down shirt that went with them, trimmed with red plaid down the front and on the pockets. "Nice."

            "Not nice," Daniel remarked with a frown, moving in front of him with a frown and pulling the shirt together, doing up the buttons. " _Gottverdammt_ , Ben, what did I tell you about bulking up your shoulders?"

            "I didn't do that much," Ben tried to argue, but as he moved the shirt pulled across his back noticeably. "It still fits...."

            "It's completely wrong," Daniel replied, spinning him around and tugging at the seams of his shoulders. "You won't be able to move properly."

            "I could wear the black stretch from our black and leather set....?"

            "You will do no such thing, it won't match." Daniel stepped back with a sigh, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. I tried to feel sorry for him, but god if I didn't love Ben's shoulders....

            "To hell with this." Daniel grabbed a pair of shears off the cutting table and made a snip in the top of the sleeve about an inch past the seam. Then he yanked, the fine cotton tearing easily down to the bottom where he cut it off under the arm.

            "Daniel - " Ben protested, but his brother shook his head.

            "I don't have time to remake it as well as finish the girl's dresses. You like showing off your arms so much, well, now you have a reason." Daniel repeated the action with the other sleeve.

            I had to admit it looked good - perhaps a little too good. "They'll love the tattoos, Ben, you know they will. You know there's a website on the internet devoted to trying to figure out what you have tattooed on yourself?"

            Ben glanced to me. "Frank said not to Google ourselves."

            "I can't help it if I stumble across things while I'm looking for porn."

            "Why are you..." Ben stopped for a moment and shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

            John was still in his boxers, perched on one of the stools, and looked over with interest. "There's porn of us on the internet? Like those people that cut out people's heads and put them on porn star bodies?"

            I laughed. "Oh god no, nothing that cheesy. Don't go looking, trust me."

            "But I want - "

            "You always take it up the ass," I informed him. "Even when you're sleeping with Anna."

            "I... what?"

            "Get dressed," Daniel told him, handing him a pair of black slacks.

            Ben looked rather traumatized. "The next person who mentions porn is doing everyone else's laundry the entire tour."

            I opened my mouth, but thought the better of it. "I concur."

            Leon had changed into his red plaid shorts and the short sleeved black shirt that went with them, the edges of the sleeves and the collar trimmed in the same plaid. His tie was red as well. He held up a pair of black leather straps with clips on the ends. "Um, Daniel... are these mine?" 

            "Ah - sorry." Daniel moved back to where he stood, taking them from him and leaning down to clip them to o-rings the sides of his shorts so they crossed behind his thighs. "Bondage straps. Mr. Bumstead said you need to be more punk and less cute."

            "But Frank likes it when I'm - "

            "The media," Ben interrupted quickly. "You're the high school bait, you can't be too innocent. High school girls don't generally work the gay angle."

            "Except for the ones who write porn on the internet," I couldn't help adding, grinning innocently as he shot me a look.

            John had pulled on his slacks and the simple black lyrca sleeveless shirt that went with them, solid across the chest with a band of the black stretch net around his waist. Daniel moved back to him to help him into the thigh-length plaid jacket, which was surprisingly sexy - all exposed seams and tatters while still being perfectly fitted and structured on him. Now that I knew for certain that they were involved it was hard to miss it; the looks they gave each other, the simple, lingering touches. How Daniel became softer and a little more shy when he spoke, the sweet smiles they gave each other. How in love they were.

            I slipped out of my costume and back into my clothes, going outside for another smoke.  
  
***


	3. Act 3: The Game

**Larry Byrne**

            London was a crazy whirlwind of activity, of an airport full of reporters and camera flashes and someone mistaking Daniel for Ben (well, at least I wasn't the only one...) and Frank trying to keep John from camera-whoring for the paparazzi while he herded us all to the cars. It struck me as much crazier than New York, perhaps because we were there so often and had never been overseas before. We had a day to get over the jet lag, then everything was go - sound checks and rehearsals in the live house the afternoon before the first show, subsequent afternoons taken up by press sessions, autograph sessions and fan events. What amazed me more was the amount of small, wrapped parcels and bottles of booze that got handed to us with the fan letters. I rather felt sorry for Frank's attempts to keep the tour dry.

            London ate us up. It was always a little amazing to watch the surge of the audience when we played, to hear their screams. From behind my drum set it was just a mass of movement, of hands that strained over the security bar towards the stage towards us. John worked the crowd like a pro - he'd transitioned from bath house bars to rock concerts almost seamlessly, and even now his ability to command the emotion of the crowd amazed me. He teased them, leaning out to touch the reaching hands as he sang, smiling. He’d wait until security wasn't looking to take a running leap into the crowd, letting the fans catch him and tear at him until security yanked him back out, laughing and breathless, smiling like he was having the time of his life.

            I almost envied him his position out at the front of the stage. I could see them whenever we went off stage, throwing drumsticks and my water bottle out into the crowd, leaning out to give high-fives. Maybe we could work in some kind of guitar and bass play that would let me out from behind the drums enough long enough to play with John for a bit....

            Ben didn't flirt with the crowd like John did, but his calm, cool strength was always the backbone of our performance. I loved watching him play, disappearing into the music as his fingers danced over the fret board of his guitar. There was nothing like playing a concert, letting my whole body become the rhythm of the song, watching John and Ben and Leon surge and head bang in practiced unison time to the music.

            When we got back to the hotel after our first show I didn't see Ben, and it worried me a little. I covered for him when Frank came around, though, making up some excuse for him, staying in my room when the others went down to the hotel lounge to have a drink with the crew. After showering I turned out the lights in my room apart from the bedside lamp, turned on the TV and tried to relax. The TV was playing some strange British comedy about a French cafe occupied by Nazis, one of which appeared to be exceedingly gay, and under any other circumstances I probably would have enjoyed it immensely. As it was I was too keyed up from the performance and too anxious about Ben, and ended up pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed with a pair of drumsticks, practicing rhythms in the air just for something mindless to focus on.

            It was a little before one when the knock came on my door, the weight and rhythm too familiar to ignore. I put down my drumsticks and turned off the TV before I opened it to find Ben there with a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Did I wake you?" he asked, and I pulled him inside before anyone in the hall could see him, locking the door behind me.

            "I never sleep when you're out," I replied. "You know that."

            Ben gave a little nod and held up the bottle. "Drink?"

            "I'm good," I replied, taking the bottle from him and stashing it in the room's mini fridge. "Just stay here with me instead, okay?" I didn't deny that my best friend's alcoholism was out of hand, and I didn't look the other way like so many others did. We'd always been big drinkers, Ben and I, far before we were legal, but things had been different since Amy had left. Sometimes I thought he would have given up on music all together if I hadn't been there, if I hadn't helped him to channel the heartbreak and helplessness into composition. Even now, though... he wasn't the same. He'd drunk to party when he was still married to Amy. Now he drank to lose himself.

            Ben looked a little helpless, staring at the fridge. "Can I have that back, then?"

            From his delay in movements and his breath I assumed that the missing half of the bottle had been consumed by him already. I sighed and stepped closer, stroking my hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. "You know there's better ways to unwind."

            Ben's expression was near unreadable, though I caught a flicker of the intense sorrow he was struggling to hide. Then he pressed close to me, sliding his arms around my waist as he leaned up to nuzzle my jaw. I couldn't help but draw him closer, closing my eyes to his touch and his words.

            "I really hate you sometimes," Ben whispered, and kissed me.

            I gave a soft noise against his mouth and drew him closer, trying not to think about his words, just the fact that he was with me. He thought this was just about sex for me, and I did nothing to discourage him. I never had, not even through our fumbled adolescent explorations before his short lived marriage. When he came to me I could never say no. "Going to love me when I'm done with you," I murmured, turning on the charm and kissing him longer, deeper, feeling him slowly relax and arch closer to me. One hand tangled in the back of my hair, pulling me into his kisses, sucking and nipping at my bottom lip. I didn't admit that I'd hoped that things would come to this like they so often did on tour. It was the only time I could forget about everything and pretend, just for a short while, that Ben was mine.

            "I hate performing that damn song," he whispered as he kissed down my throat, hands pushing up under my t-shirt to stroke my chest. "Fuck, I hate it, Lar. All I can think about is the fact that he wrote those fucking lyrics for my wife, that he wanted her all along…"

            "You don't know that," I replied, closing my eyes for a moment on a surge of guilt. But I couldn't tell him the truth about it, especially not now.

            "That's the problem." Ben didn't attempt to keep the agony from his eyes as he pulled back to look at me. "I don't know. And I have to relive that uncertainty every time. Every single fucking time."

            "Then don't think about it," I replied, holding his gaze as I stroked a hand slowly down his midline over his t-shirt, slowly pulling his belt undone. "I'll help you."

            He shivered under my touch, surging forward suddenly to catch my mouth again, all warmth and desire and desperation. I gave a low groan, yanking his shirt undone to stroke hungrily over his chest, filling my hands with the warmth of his touch. Playing a gig - especially playing a gig with Ben - always left me keyed up and needy, and now that he was here it was easy to give himself over to the pleasure of being with him. We tugged away each other’s clothes with practiced ease, and I let myself indulge in his body, kissing along his jaw to suck at his earlobe, trace the whirls of his ear with my tongue just to hear him groan.

            "Make it impossible to think about anything when I'm with you," he groaned as I started to kiss down his throat, teasing the crook with my teeth before biting down at his shoulder where it would be hidden by clothes, kissing and licking the bite to soothe. I let my hands stroke over his biceps and shoulders, closing my eyes at the feeling of his warmth and strength under my fingers, the solid curves of muscles. I'd always loved his strength, the feel of his body against me. That he was one of the few men who could still yank me close, throw me into bed and have his way with me.

            I pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking down to my knees in front of him as I kissed down his chest, dragging my teeth across a nipple and biting at his stomach before finally taking the head of his cock in my mouth. I groaned around him at the familiar taste of sex and musk and Ben, tracing my tongue around him and licking at the arousal that seeped from the tip, working my tongue against him as I sucked down the length of him hungrily. I groaned at the clench of his fingers in my hair, the little buck of his hips into my mouth, and cupped his balls in one hand to let them rest heavy against my palm, squeezing gently to feel him shudder.

            "Oh fuck, Lar...."

            "You want that?" I murmured, looking up at as I nuzzled the head of his cock, teasing it with little flicks of my tongue. "Haven't christened London yet, have we?" I sucked down the underside of his cock, mouthing at his sack.

            "Get on the edge of the bed." Ben's voice was hoarse with wanting, and it went straight to my cock.

            "Supplies in the bedside table," I replied, scrambling up onto the bed. He caught my hips before I could move to the middle, leaving me kneeling at the edge, leaning back to catch my mouth in a hungry kiss, licking past my lips as if to taste himself on me.

            "Stay like this," he told me, eyes dark and skin golden in the dimly lit room. He pressed a firm kiss to the corner of my mouth, then got up, pulling open the drawer and pushing past all the shit I'd thrown in there to grab the bottle of lube and box of condoms, tearing one open to roll it on.

            Slick fingers pressed against my ass as he stood behind me, stroking and teasing me until I rocked back against them with a little impatient groan. "Come on, Ben - oh fuck, yes..."

            Ben's fingers were strong and nimble, calloused from guitar strings, and I bit back a curse as they crooked inside me just right, sending a shudder of pleasure through me. "You're beautiful like this, you know," he murmured, stretching me open with even thrusts and little twists of his fingers.

            I had to close my eyes against emotion, against the warm, very real tone to his words. I loved him too much to listen to him say things like that when there was nothing more between us than this. "Don't go getting sappy on me," I forced, rocking back against his fingers. "Come on, Ben. Fuck me. I'm good for it."

            "You are," he agreed, though there was a strange heaviness to his voice that I couldn't understand.

            I didn't have enough time to think about it before he was taking me, hands clenched at my hips as he eased his way into my body with small thrusts. The aching pleasure of my body stretching around the thick head of his cock was familiar and longed for, and I rocked back against him with a shuddering groan. "Oh fuck yes, Ben - !"

            "Feel so damn good," he breathed, drawing back to fill me again with a hard thrust, quickly setting an urgent pace. We hadn't fucked like this before, and having him standing behind me gave him a beautiful control over it, fingers digging into my hips as he drove into me again and again. I almost couldn't catch my breath with the pace, each thrust leaving me seeing stars, my cock achingly hard against my stomach, dripping from pleasure and arousal.

            "Jesus Christ," I gasped, trying to move with him, feeling almost overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure. I wouldn't last long, not at this pace. I didn't expect him to slow, burying himself inside me and leaning over to press a trembling kiss to the back of my neck. My breath caught at the unexpected tenderness of it, and I forced myself to speak. "Ben?"

            "On your back," he murmured, then eased away from me, voice low and husky. "Please."

            I caught his gaze as I turned over and lay back against the pillows, forcing a smirk, forcing away emotion. "Come here," I said, pulling my knees up teasingly.

            Ben sank down to his knees between mine, leaning in to press a warm kiss to the inside of my thigh, for a moment I could only breathe, watching him trail soft kisses over my skin, finally drawing his tongue up the length of my throbbing cock. "You are beautiful like this," he murmured, sucking teasingly at the head before kissing up my chest. He caught my mouth as he eased back inside me, stealing my shuddering moan with his kisses. "I'm sorry."

            "Sorry?"

            Ben rocked deeper, breath a trembling tease against my skin. "Always come to you like this, half drunk...."

            "Shut up and fuck me," I told him, trying to sound teasing, but it just fell flat. I tangled one hand in his hair to hold him to my kisses, the other clenched at his back, focusing on the hot shocks of pleasure he drove through and not the ache his words woke in me.

            "Tell me you won't leave me," he breathed, arms wrapped under me, hands clenched at my shoulders. "Promise me. Please, Lar."

            I arched up against him as our bodies came together, rocking with him, overwhelmed despite my best efforts. "Not gonna leave you," I managed to whimper, closing my eyes, caught between pleasure and sorrow, wanting so badly for this to mean more than it did. "Promise."

            "Thank you," he murmured in reply, picking up the pace with his face pressed to my neck, and in that moment the only thing that existed for me was him - the strength and warmth of his body over mine, his kisses, the sound of his voice, and when he pulled me to climax all I could do was feel, fingers digging into his back, lost in the exquisite pain of my love for him.

            Afterward we said nothing, simply pressed close together regardless of the fact that we were sweat-streaked and sticky from sex. Ben's kisses were soft and almost reverent on my face - but no, that was my own wishful thinking. I forced myself to move, to curl around him, his head tucked under my chin. I'd turned down the blankets earlier in my efforts to relax, and it was easy enough to kick them over us now.

            "Get some sleep," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Busy day tomorrow."

            Ben gave a soft hum of agreement, already half way there.

            I wish sleep had found me as easily.

***

**Ben Carson**

            By the end of the fourth show in London we were all pretty beat. I didn't make any pretence at getting drunk that night, just slipped into Larry's room when no one was looking. I couldn't stop myself, not when I knew he was there, available, willing. Wanting. It was the real reason I'd spent most of the West Coast tour drinking - not because of Amy at all. Trying to keep myself from going to him.

            It didn't work.

            Larry had been my first kiss, during a hot, sticky summer break when we were both thirteen, under the porch of his parent's new house in Queens. I couldn't remember if it had been a dare or a joke, just that his lips had been cold and sweet like the rocket popsicle he was eating. I do remember his smile. Maybe that's when I first fell in love with Larry.

            Maybe I'd always been in love with him.

            He'd been the first person I'd made love with, too. We were sixteen. I'm sure he'd assumed that I'd lost it with one of my random girlfriends, that he'd chalked my nervousness up to him being a guy. I wasn't that nervous, though. Not around Larry. We'd been fooling around for months, since the first time I'd stolen away with a micky of Jack that had been left in my father's studio. We'd drunk until we were languid and laughing, until I'd remembered the taste of the popsicle on his lips and suddenly wanted to taste them again. It was easy to lose myself entirely in Larry's kisses, in his little needy moans, in the feel of his hands on my body. We'd kissed until we were both hard and aching, tangled together in his bed, bodies arching, grinding together frantically and we'd both come in our pyjama pants before we'd really realized what we were doing. It had only progressed from there, a little more every time I crashed at his house or him at mine - palming each other through cotton boxers, then underneath. Letting him stroke me to climax while I jerked his cock, my face buried in his hair.

            "It's just about feeling good," he'd said with a little dismissive shake of his head, the first time I'd tried to ask what we were doing. "It doesn't have to mean anything." It was disappointing and hurt a little, but I could live with it. It was always just sex to Larry. He had boyfriends, handsome collage boys with high cheekbones and stylish clothes, or the pretty catholic boys from the private school a few blocks away from ours. I wish I’d been one of them, that it had been more than sex between us, but it would have been disaster to ask him for any kind of exclusivity when I hadn't even figured out my own sexuality. I loved him, though. I'd take whatever I could get from him.

            I still did now.

            It was good to make love after the rush of being on stage, my body still singing with adrenaline, pumped on the cheers of the crowd. It had become a pretty regular occurrence for us, on tour. Since Amy had left me, actually, when he pulled me from my drunken heartbreak and into his arms, into his bed. He kissed me like we'd never stopped, like I'd never pushed him away to marry Amy, like the friends we'd been years before. I wouldn't have survived the break-up of the band or the divorce without him.

            I wondered all too often what things would have been like if I'd never married Amy. If I'd just stayed with him. If I had to be completely honest with myself, it wasn't the divorce that had left me so shattered. It was that I'd invested so much energy and commitment into something that ended in betrayal and that I'd done so at the cost of what I really wanted. I could live with Larry not returning my love. At least I knew that he wouldn't leave.

            I awoke in his arms the morning of our last show in London, still feeling the warm, comfortable sense of well being that always came with being with him. I nuzzled his hair, curling closer to him and feeling him respond sleepily, turning his face to mine for a languid kiss. It was late in the morning, but I couldn't resist him like this, his body warm and pliant from sleep, moulding to mine without restraint as we kissed.

            Afterward we made love I took my leave of him regretfully, pulling on last night's clothes and stealing back to my own room to shower and dress. I'd just run some wax through my hair to arrange the mess into some kind of purposeful spikes when my cell phone rang, and I listened to my lawyer with my stomach freezing into an icy lump of dread.

            As soon as I was off the phone, I was down the hall to bang on my manager's door. "Frank? Frank, open up, we gotta talk."

            Frank looked surprised to see me when he opened the door. "What's going on?"

            "Got a call from the lawyer. Can I come in?"

            Frank nodded and stepped back wordlessly, letting me into his hotel room. Leon was curled up in one of the armchairs inside, a half finished lunch on the small table between them. He gave me a remarkably sheepish smile, but that wasn't my focus now. I turned back to Frank. "My fucking ex-wife's put a claim on our use of that fucking song, she's going to sue us for their share of the profits. We have to recall that CD and settle this out of court or it'll turn into a media shit storm - "

            "Is everything all right?" Larry was standing hesitantly at the still open hotel room door, John in the hallway behind him. I gave a sharp shake of my head. "The Lawyer called. We're going to have to re-press the CD or pay standard licensing fees and a percentage of the proceeds to my fucking ex-wife and her pool boy. She's claiming copyright infringement, and that we're using the song for publicity, that they're entitled to a percentage of the whole fucking album and ticket sales and - "

            "Ben, calm down. I'll fix this." Frank's voice was calm and authoritative, but it did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves.

            "I don't see how even you can fix this. We don't have the time or money to re-print the CD, we've already sold five thousand advance copies - "

            "I'll fix it," Frank repeated, then looked up to Larry. "I need that thing that you told me about, Mr. Byrne."

            Larry had gone very pale for some reason, but nodded. "I'll give a call to the lawyer and give him access to the safe deposit box. He'll know what to do with it. I'll tell him to call you when it's taken care of, he should be able to get it sorted out overnight before anyone has to know about the claim."

            "Good. Thank you."

            What the hell were they talking about? "I hope you're not planning to blackmail my ex."

            Larry gave a little weak laugh, shaking his head. "I wish I was blackmailing your ex. This is all legal. I gotta go make that call."

            I stepped forward to catch his arm. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell you two are talking about."

            When Larry looked up at me I realized I'd never seen him truly afraid before now. He was silent, but Frank spoke, low and careful. "Peter didn't write the lyrics, Ben. Larry has the first copy from a year before you even met Peter, in a sealed envelope sent through registered mail locked away in a safe deposit box back in New York. Protection in case something like this ever happened."

            We used to do it with all our work back when we first started composing. A poor man's key to establishing legal ownership of material. I stared up at him, uncomprehending. "Peter didn't write it. You...?" It made sense. I'd first penned down the melody our last year of high school. We'd both known it had the potential to be great, that it needed to be slowly refined instead of rushed into production in a garage like all the material then. That it needed the perfect lyrics to portray the emotion in the music....

            Larry didn't answer, standing very still and very pale, staring down at my hand on his wrist, and I could feel his pulse racing under my fingertips. "I'm sorry," he managed finally, voice rough.

            "You're sorry?" For some reason the words enraged me, and my fingers tightened on his wrist enough that it must have hurt him, but I couldn't think. "You let me believe everything all this time, let me believe he wrote the fucking song about Amy, that he stole my work and my wife - "

            "I'm sorry," he whispered again, trembling in my touch, eyes closed tight as if to avoid my gaze.

            "Sorry isn't fucking good enough, Lar. I trusted you. How the hell could you keep something like this from me?" I dropped his arm and looked around the room at the others, who were watching quietly, suddenly mad at all of them. "Does anyone have anything else they want to fucking tell me?" I turned to Leon before he could respond. "I already know you're fucking the manager, I don't care about that. I care about this - "

            "I'm in love with your brother?" John offered in a tiny voice, still hanging back by the door.

            In love with Daniel. Of course he was. "Why can't any of my fucking singers keep it in their goddamn pants? Fuck you. You know what, fuck all of you. This isn't how you run a fucking band. I'm fucking out of here." I pushed past John, twisting out of his grasp as he tried to grab my arm.

            "Ben - "

            "Stay the fuck away from Daniel," I replied, shoving him back and making for the stairwell at the end of the hall. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't think. I needed a fucking cigarette, and I definitely needed a goddamn drink.

 

  
             
            I wasn't surprised when it was Daniel who found me, spotting me from the door of the mostly empty pub and making his way over unhurriedly. He sat down across from me in the booth and took my glass, draining it. "You need to play tonight, Ben."

            "I guess you were elected to come after me?"

            My younger brother frowned. "Don't be silly, Ben. They are all worried. I made the rest stay home because apparently you're pissed off at all of them including Mr. Bumstead." He watched me for a long moment, finally asking, "Anything you would like to talk about?"

            I frowned, staring down at the empty glass. "John says he's in love with you."

            Daniel looked up at me sharply, and when I glanced back the tips of his ears had flushed pink. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. It's not his fault, Ben, I asked him to keep it from you. I didn't want to worry you." When the waitress approached he ordered two glasses of water.

            "You thought I'd freak out," I corrected once she'd left, turning the empty glass between my fingers on the table. "I don't believe in history repeating itself, Daniel. I'm just... hurt."

            "I'm sorry," Daniel said softly, reaching across the table to cover one of my hands with his. "I just didn't... I'm not used to being open about my relationships, Ben. At home... _Mutter_ would have made me a case study, it was bad enough that I wanted to do fashion instead of psychology, I...." He stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry."

            I laced my fingers with his and gave a squeeze. "Do you love him?"

            Daniel flushed darkly. "I tried not to."

            "Can we really choose who we love?"

            He laughed softly and shrugged. "Ben, I won't do anything to jeopardize your band. No matter what happens. I promise you that."

            "I know," I replied, giving him a soft smile. "I'm not angry at you, _liebling_. I'm not even all that angry at John. I just... have I really become such a basket case that people have to keep things from me?"

            Daniel searched my gaze, his voice low. "Tell me what happened?"

            I looked down at our joined hands. "Peter didn't write the lyrics to that song. It wasn't about Amy. I've spent so much time not knowing, so much time wondering, so much time listening to the fucking paparazzi make guesses about why she left, and I...." I stopped, forcing myself to take a deep breath. "He knew. He knew how crazy the whole damn thing made me and the whole time he knew the truth, and he just let me wonder - "

            "Why do you think he did not want you to know that it was his work and not Peter's?"

            "I don't know," I replied, as helpless answering the question to him as I was to myself. "He's done lyrics before, I just... why lie about these ones?"

            "You spent the past few years thinking they were written by a man who was in love with your wife. In actuality they were written by your best friend. Ben, what does that say?"

            I gave a little shake of my head. "Lar wouldn't go after Amy if his life depended on it."

            Daniel gave a soft sigh, exasperation seeping in to his voice. "Not Amy. He's in love with _you_ , Ben."

            I closed my eyes for a moment at the words, wondering how he'd gotten so close to my real feelings. "I'd know if he was in love with me," I muttered, feeling the familiar heartache twist in my chest. It couldn't be true. As much as Larry had cared for me, stood by me, it had never been the way that I longed for.

            "Perhaps he's keeping it from you."

            I gave a short, bitter laugh. "I know him better than anyone. He's not."

            Daniel watched me quietly. "Sometimes we're too close to someone to see clearly. Ben... would it be such a bad thing if he loved you?"

            "No," I whispered hoarsely. "No, it wouldn't. Daniel, I - I can't talk about this right now. Please."

            "All right." Daniel's voice was gentle and he didn't push me further. "I need to do a little bit of repair work before the show. Will you come to the live house and keep me company?"

            It would mean no more liquor, and I'm sure that was his intention. But it would also mean not having to go back to the hotel, and I could sit down with my guitar...

            "All right," I agreed, and we left.

***


	4. Act 4: The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sometime Around Midnight" and the lyrics thereof belong to and are used in tribute to one of the most evocative and talented groups of all time, The Airborne Toxic Event.

**Act 4: The Revelation**

**Ben Carson**

            I was already in costume when the others arrived, and took my leave of the dressing room without saying anything to them, heading into the semi-darkness of the wings. Our opening act for that night, a small London punk band, was on stage, and for a time I just stood in the wings and watched them play. It had been easy enough to lose myself to composition earlier in the day, to put off thinking about what had happened. Not so easy to do so now.

            "Ben?" Larry's voice was low, hardly audible over the music, and I hadn't noticed him come backstage. I glanced up at him for a long moment, and all the uncertainty that I'd managed to push away that afternoon came back. It wouldn't have mattered if it had been anyone else but Larry, but the ache of betrayal only added to the agony of years of silent longing, of loving him when I knew it would never be returned. It was too much to take. I turned towards him, holding his anxious gaze silently.

            "I'm sorry - " he started, but I cut him off a sharp shake of my head.

            "I can't do this right now," I told him. "We have a show to put on. I don't want to talk about it."

            Larry looked faintly miserable, but nodded, following me as I headed back to the dressing room. John was letting Daniel put eyeliner on him when we entered, black and smokey, the effect painstakingly created with liquid liner and pencil and powder. I remembered the first time I'd seen him do it - back when all John used was cheap black kohl - arriving with a bag of cosmetics and brushes and the determination that he wasn't going to let John look like one of those singers that turns into a melted mess under the lights. I wondered how the hell I hadn't figured out their relationship before now. Daniel sat back upon seeing me, giving me a soft smile, and John looked rather uneasy.

            "We can't do 'Sometime Around Midnight' tonight," I said, ignoring his gaze. "It's not our song, so until this whole mess is sorted out it’s best that our band not perform it. We'll sub in 'Spirals' instead. Can someone tell the girls?"

            "I will." Larry turned and left the room at that, and I was too restless to stay.

            "I'll be in the wings helping with set-up."

            I felt like I was going through the motions that night, playing the notes while trying not to think about the songs themselves, keeping emotion bottled up. If I let myself feel I was sure I'd come apart at the seams, lose myself to the feelings of hurt and betrayal from the one person I'd thought I could trust with my life. From the person I loved most, even now.

            We always worked a solo half-way through the main segment of our show - sometimes drums, sometimes bass, trading off members on stage to allow for a costume change. Tonight's was a drum solo, Leon joining him for some drum and bass work as soon as he was changed. Larry'd been staying in his kilt for most of the night these past few shows, ditching the matching top to play shirtless behind the drums, skin sweat-streaked and glowing. It was very sexy, though I always felt a little dirty watching him.

            Daniel helped Leon out of the plaid bondage shorts and into a pair of fitted black shorts with a wide cuff that were almost capri length, a long sleeved white dress shirt and a black tie with a fedora. It was trimmed with black denim printed with white newsprint - on the cuffs of the shorts, the tie, and the band of the hat. It was the same fabric as my own news-printed black jeans, Daniel's alternative to the ass-hugging leather pants John was wearing that I completely refused. John didn't even wear a shirt under his black suit jacket - a match to my white one, with belts at the waist and the upper sleeves.

            Daniel came to me after he'd finished with Leon, pulling my white jacket from its hanger as I pulled a simple body-hugging lycra t-shirt over my head. He handed me a bottle of sport drink first, though. "Drink. Then white jacket."

            "I'm not going to get fruit punch on my coat," I told him, but drank anyway, draining the bottle and setting it aside before letting him help me on with the jacket.

            "You look like a robot out there," Daniel told me with a little worried look. "Ben...."

            "I'm fine," I replied, frowning. "I just need to not think about it for a while. Okay?"

            Daniel still looked worried, but nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to my cheek. "Let me know if there is anything I can do."

            I managed to relax a little in the second half, just focusing on the music, on moving, on the screams of the crowd. I even followed John to the edge of the stage, turning to stand with our backs pressed together as I played and grinned back at him. The gap between the stage and the security barrier was purposefully narrow enough that we could step out to rest a foot on one of the bars, immediately swarmed by hands and arms and using the body of my guitar to keep from being groped too inappropriately, reaching out to touch straining arms from the people further back in the pit before security helped pull me back onto stage.

            It was hot, too hot for the hall's air conditioning, and security was bringing out pitcher after pitcher of water, pouring drinks into the upturned mouths of the people sandwiched at the front of the audience. John was singing with his coat open, baring his sweat-streaked chest to the small oscillating fans we had set up by the amps, and he took two of the pitchers from the security guards, emptying them in arcs of water out over the audience.

            Finally we drew back from the frantic, hard pace. Spirals was the last song of the main set, a haunting power ballad, and we'd have time afterward to towel off and cool down and change for the encore. But John turned out to have ideas of his own.

            "So I know a lot of you here were big fans of a really excellent band called 'The Reflections'." It wasn't the introduction to 'Spirals' - it was ours, only ours, but John was drowned out by cheering from the crowd before he could finish, and he laughed a little nervously. I looked up at him, filled with a sudden sense of dread at not knowing where he was going with this. "I guess that's a yes? We'll, we've been doing a little number on tour that some of you might remember. It's called 'Sometime Around Midnight' - " He was cut off again by cheering, and glanced at me for a second before completely ignoring my glare.

            "I promise we won't disappoint you, but there's been a bit of a problem with the song. Something about bitchy exes and all that, I'll let all you jilted lovers fill in the details." The audience was laughing, which only seemed to encourage him.

            "John - " I hissed, trying to attract his attention without seeming to obvious, but he ignored it.

            "Basically, 'A Single Syringe' can't play the song right now, but 'The Reflections' can. So Leon and I are going to take a break right now, and London will be the very first city in the world to hear our drummer sing."

            Oh god.

            The crowd erupted into cheers as he stepped back from the mike, still avoiding my gaze. He hopped up onto the drum platform, unbuttoning his suit jacket as Larry stared at him in dumbfounded amazement. I could see them talking even though I couldn't hear them, see Larry shaking his head a little wildly, but John merely grinned, shrugging out of his suit jacket and thrusting it towards Larry over his drums. Then he hopped off the platform speaking briefly to May before grabbing Leon by the sleeve and heading off stage.

            Larry was still just wearing his kilt from earlier, and looked a little awkward as he stood and pulled on John's jacket over his bare chest. He glanced over at me questioningly as he approached the mike, as if asking me if I was all right with this turn of events, but I couldn't exactly call it off now that John had announced it. Quickly assessing the situation, I pulled my electric guitar over my head and set it back in its stand, plugging my eight-string acoustic to my looping pedal instead, and then pulled the tall stool up to center stage, a few feet away from Larry. The acoustic was tuned a little differently already, and I took a moment to adjust the strings and change the pitch, mentally transposing the song a little lower to suit the change in vocalist. I glanced back at May, playing each string in order to let her know the new pitch, and she nodded in confirmation.

            Larry still seemed more than a little terrified, but he tried to hide it, giving the audience a sheepish smile. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he announced to laughter, laughing himself to try and cover the obvious nervousness. "I guess I'll try not to burst your eardrums, right? So. This is 'Sometime Around Midnight.'"

            I gave May a nod, watching her for a moment as she started the sorrowful violin intro, then joined in with the guitar.

            It had been a long time since I'd played this song acoustic, but it reminded me very much of when we first started out, when it had just been Larry and I in my dad's basement when he was away at work, my half sister Angie still in school, picking out the details of this music. I hadn't even met Amy then. I'd had girlfriends - brief relationships that never quiet went anywhere, but Larry had always been there - my friend, my support, my first fumbled kiss, the love I couldn't even admit to myself.

            Larry wasn't a singer, but he was a musician with good pitch and clarity, and the microphone made up for any shortcomings in technique. I wasn't worried about him performing, since we'd sung through enough of the songs together in practice when we had no vocalist around, and he still did backups for a number of the songs. He seemed hesitant at the microphone as he started to sing, though, watching me carefully.

_"And it starts sometime around midnight. Or at least, that's when you lose yourself for a minute or two."_

            It was a whole new mindset, thinking about him writing this. It was hard not to be hurt by it. But Daniel's words from the bar echoed in my mind. "He's in love with _you_ , Ben." It couldn't be true, could it?

            Perhaps Larry saw something in my expression, because he suddenly seemed more sure of himself, decisive. He gripped the mic with both hands, voice coming louder as he continued, clearer. _"And the band plays some song about forgetting yourself for a while. And the music's a melancholy soundtrack to his smile. In that white coat he's wearing you haven't seen him for a while."_

            Him. I tried not to think about it, my mind suddenly filled with possibilities. With Daniel's words. He'd kept this from me because it was never about Amy. It was his own heartbreak. Because if I saw these lyrics coming from him I'd know....

_“The room's suddenly spinning as he walks up and asks how you are. So you can smell his cologne you can see him lying naked in your arms."_

            Larry had stopped watching me, both hands wrapped around the microphone, voice a little rough with emotion. Peter had never performed it with this kind of feeling. Even John hadn't.

            He's in love with you. Maybe it was true.

            I swallowed hard, focusing on my guitar, but I couldn't tune out the sound of his voice, the words that cut to my core.

            " _Then he leaves with someone who's not you. But he knows that you saw him, he looks right at you and bolts. As he walks out the door your blood boiling and your stomach in ropes. And your friends say, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost._ "

            I closed my eyes as my fingers moved on the frets, strumming hard chords on my acoustic, following the crescendo of Larry's voice. I wouldn't have left, I wanted to say. I'd never have left you if I'd known....

            " _Then you walk under the streetlights and you're too drunk to notice that everyone's staring at you. You just don't care what you look like, the world is falling around you. You just have to see him, you just have to see him -_ "

            God, how had I never seen this emotion in him? How had I been so self-absorbed in my own feelings that I'd missed something this powerful, this beautiful?

_"You just have to see him, you know that he'll break you in two."_

            It was all I could do to finish the outro, cutting the guitar loop, forcing myself to pull back for the delicate fingering of the final bars.

            "Thank you," Larry said simply into the mic before I'd even finished playing, voice thick with the same emotion as his song. He didn’t look back as he walked off stage, leaving May and I behind.

            It was all I could do to finish the last few notes. "Thank you," I managed to say as well, tossing my pick out into the cheering audience and giving a wave before heading off stage as well, trying not to run. I pulled my guitar off as I slipped into the wings, finding John and Leon there with Daniel, but no Larry. "Where did he go?"

            "Cigarette," Daniel replied simply, taking the guitar from me and pointing towards the door, and for once he didn't say anything about smoking in costume as I hurried from the room.

            I found Larry in the loading dock that had been blocked off for our use, leaning back against one of our vans, smoking. He looked up at me as I made my way over, pulling his box of cigarettes from the pocket of John's coat and offering it to me wordlessly.

            I took it, pulling out a cigarette and the lighter that was inside and lighting it, drawing a long drag as I tried to figure out how on earth I could respond to something as powerful as what he'd just done. "You wrote it for me."

            Larry closed his eyes, one arm wrapped around his torso, and took another drag of his cigarette with trembling fingers. "I'm sorry. It was... it was about two weeks after we met Amy, I just... I needed to get it out of my system."

            I remembered meeting Amy very well - the only talent in an angry girl band at a local battle of the bands. She was spirited and passionate and gutsy and provided a welcome and eager distraction from my - so I thought - unrequited love. We'd recruited her within days and soon after her and I were sleeping together. What a mistake.

            "It helped when we played it," he continued quietly, ashing his cigarette against the pavement almost compulsively, "because then I wasn't just bottling it up inside. I never meant for you to know. That's why I re-wrote it and gave it to Peter.

            "Do you still feel that way?" I asked softly, and Larry gave a harsh, desperate laugh.

            "Christ, don't ask me that, Ben. I can only handle so much right now. I'm sorry."

            "I'm not," I replied, stepping closer to him, heart aching as he stiffened at my approach, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. "I should be the one apologizing."

            Larry gave a sharp shake of his head. "You have no reason, and I don't want your pity."

            "I have every reason," I replied, taking another drag on my cigarette before everything came out in a rush. "I thought this was just sex for you. I've spent years wanting what I thought I couldn't have. So I went to Amy instead of having the balls to tell you how I really felt about you. Lar, I'm so sorry."

            Larry had dropped the remains of his cigarette, hands pressed back against the van as if to pull back from me, breath coming fast. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, as if unable to meet my eyes. "I don't know what you're saying, Ben."

            I flicked away my cigarette, reaching to take his face in both hands. There was one security camera in the dock, and we'd be hidden from it by the van, and fuck if I could wait another moment before doing this. Larry was still shivering as I pressed up against him and caught his mouth with my own, needing the intimacy, the simple, longing contact that had started everything between us. "Larry," I murmured against his mouth, kissing him again and again, finally feeling his lips relax against mine to return my yearning, his hands moving to clench hard at my hips and hold me close.

            "I love you," I whispered against his mouth, suddenly trembling as much as he was, kissing him again and again. "Love you, Lar. Oh fuck...."

            He gave a low, choked whimper, one hand slipping up to clench in my hair, returning my kisses with just as much need and desperation. "Ben - !"

            I slipped my hands from his hair to wrap around him, holding him tightly, finally breaking from his mouth to press my face to his hair, trying to catch my breath. "I'm so sorry. God, I’m sorry."

            "My fault too," he returned, letting out a long breath and slowly relaxing against me. "This... this is really happening, isn't it?"

            "I sure as hell hope so," I replied, pressing a kiss just under his ear before drawing back a little regretfully. "We'd better get in and get changed."

            "Yeah." He caught my hand as I turned towards the door. "Ben...."

            I looked back, nerves still buzzing from adrenaline and happiness and -this-, squeezing his hand. "Yeah?"

            "I do love you."

            I smiled, leaning in to indulge in another kiss, feeling somehow like things couldn't be any more perfect. "I know now."

 

 It was all I could do to get through the encore, wanting nothing more than to drag Larry back to the hotel so that I could offer apology for all the mistakes I'd made and all the wrong I'd done him, to make up for all my shortcomings. I managed to channel the energy into my performance. My recompense for being on auto-pilot for our main set. I liked to think that the crowd responded to it, and when I pre-empted John's usual stage dive during the our finale number by taking a running leap into the audience myself I was immediately surrounded by cheers and laughter and the ecstasy of our shared concert experience.  
  
If my arm was a little tighter than normal around Larry's bare waist when we took our bows, well... hopefully no-one would notice but him.  
  
As soon as we were off stage for the last time I pulled him to me. It was easy to hide from the glare of the house lights in the shadows between costume racks. The smile Larry gave me was heartbreakingly sweet, and I couldn't resist it, kissing him again and again and relishing in the feel of his body against mine. The thought of staying through take down was agonizing when all I wanted was to be alone with him, to make things right....  
  
A tap to my shoulder startled me from the kiss. I kept one arm tight around Larry's waist as I turned, startled. John looked entirely too smug for his own good as he grinned at us, but considering what he'd done I only felt a fond thankfulness for my meddling band mate. "Hey. Since I fucked with your set list I figured I could stay and supervise take down with Frank and Leon if you two want to call it an early night?"  
  
I felt a wave of gratitude. "Are you sure? I've been such an ass today, John, I'm sorry - "  
  
"It's all good," he replied with a shrug, grinning wider. "And yeah, I'm sure. Go."  
  
"Thank you." I swallowed, trying to keep an unexpected thickness from my voice. "I mean it, though. I've been an ass. If you're really in love with my brother, I - I'm happy for that. I trust you with him."  
  
John's grin turned suddenly bashful, and he stepped back with a laugh. "Aw, that may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Get out of here before I get all sappy."  
  
Impulsively, I reached out with my free arm to pull him back to us, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered, hearing Larry murmur similar sentiments at the same time.  
  
John wrapped his arms around us both for a squeeze, laughing as he pulled back. "Go on, love birds. Get out of here, you can thank me properly once you've consummated things."  
  
Giddy, I could only laugh at his suggestive eyebrow waggle, pulling away to take Larry back to the green room to change into street clothes before heading back to the hotel.  
  
As soon as the door to his hotel room was locked behind us I pulled him to me again, losing myself to his kisses. I felt dizzy with desire. It felt both familiar and different, kissing him. I'd lost hours to passion in Larry's arms, knew his body intimately, but being able to finally admit my feelings for him made things feel somehow more raw, more real. More intense.  
  
I pulled him towards the bed, tugging his shirt and jacket off with practiced ease, but when I reached for his belt Larry drew back, hands resting on my chest. "Ben... this is real, isn't it?"  
  
There was an openness to his expression that made my heart ache from its vulnerability. I reached a hand up to cup his cheek, letting myself caress his skin with all the sweet adoration I'd always forced myself to hold back. "It's real. I love you so much, Lar. I'll do my best to never give you cause to question that again."  
  
He let out a soft sigh, and I felt a shiver run through him as he pressed close again, resting his forehead against mine. "Sorry. It's just... good to hear you say it."  
  
I smoothed my fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, nuzzling along his jaw. "It feels good to say it," I breathed, sighing with pleasure as he melted against me. "Wanted to for so long. I love you. I've always loved you." I heard my voice crack on the words, but still they spilled from my lips, the dam of my restraint broken. "You're everything to me. I love you more than anything and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I ever let you believe anything else, Lar, I - "  
  
"Shh..." I didn't realize I was trembling until he kissed me, fingers stroking through my hair. "It's okay, love. I know."  
  
Suddenly I wanted to savor every moment of this, each kiss and caress. When I finally pinned him under me in bed I pulled back to look at him, watching the rawness in his expression as my fingers slowly mapped his torso with soft caresses. "There's been times when you've seemed distant when we're together. I used to worry you were only coming to bed with me to make me happy. But you just didn't want me to see...."  
  
Larry glanced away from me for a second, breath escaping his lips in a huffed, embarrassed laugh. "Yeah. Was so afraid that you'd figure it out. But I've never faked it with you, Ben, I swear. I've always wanted you."  
  
I let my lips fall to his throat with a soft sigh of relief, trailing soft kisses up his neck and taking in the stubble roughness along his jaw as if it were the first time I'd really tasted him. Perhaps in a way it was. "I've always wanted you," I echoed, fitting my body against his side as I took his mouth again. Laying with him felt decadent, and when his thigh wrapped over mine I arched against him with an unhurried roll of my hips, sighing at the slide of his cock against my own.  
  
The absolute fulfilment of the moment overwhelmed me as much as it aroused me. Larry's friendship and support had always been complete, and we'd always been extremely sexually compatible. But now I could allow myself to love him, to worship and adore him like I'd always wanted to.  
  
"I want..." the words caught in my throat, memories rushing back with sudden regret. There were a hundred, thousand times in the past that I should have given him my love, so many mistakes that could have been avoided....  
  
"You want?" Larry's gentle probe broke me from my memories as he pressed soft kisses to my cheeks and eyelids. "Tell me, love. I'm yours. Whatever you want...."  
  
"Do you remember the night before my wedding?" the words came out in a rush of anxiety, but Larry pulled back with a warm smile, bringing a hand up to brush his thumb against my lips.  
  
"Very fondly. Despite the fact that I should have listened to your brother and told you to call the whole thing off."  
  
I pressed a kiss to his thumb, unsurprised at the revelation. Daniel had always been far too perceptive, and I found myself wishing that I'd confided in him. But I'd been so certain then that marrying Amy was the path I needed to take. I'd thought that my best friend and my younger brother would be a good match, that perhaps Daniel could take care of him for me, but Daniel would have never pursued that if he'd known I was in love with him. "What we did that night... can we do it again?"  
  
The flash of hunger in Larry's eyes thrilled me. Moments later I found myself pushed back into the bed with Larry over top of me, kissing me with a possessive fierceness that drove all conscious thought from my head. I arched up against him, suddenly desperate for what I'd asked of him, raking my fingers down his back to pull him closer.  
  
"You sure you want this?" Larry breathed, reaching past the bed to grope in the drawer for supplies.  
  
It took a moment to gather my wits enough to reply. "Yeah. God, Lar, I really do. I really, really liked it, I just - it feels so vulnerable, and I - I didn't know if I could ask...." I drew a sharp breath as he slipped lube-slick fingers between my thighs and pulled my knees up to encourage him. "Oh fuck..."  
  
"Can ask whenever you want," he told me, voice a low rumble against my ear. "I'll do anything you want me to, Ben. Anything to please you, just as long as you're mine...."  
  
The sudden possiveness in his voice made my cock jerk with arousal. "I'm always yours," I gasped, moaning at the careful press of his fingers up into me, body shivering at the intensity of sensation. "Completely yours, love, oh fuck that feels good...."  
  
Larry sucked at my earlobe as he pumped his fingers in me slowly. "Gonna make you feel so good, love. Want you so bad, you can't even imagine...."  
  
"Tell me?"  
  
Larry raised his head to look down at me, contemplating silently for a moment. He pressed his thumb against the soft flesh behind my balls as he pushed his fingers deeper, smiling as the intensity of sensation pushed a trembling cry from my lips. "You sure you want to hear all the dirty things you inspire in me?"  
  
"I really do." I tried to rock up against him, needing, desperate for sensation. "Please more..."  
  
"You want me to tell you how hard you make me?" He caught my mouth in a yearning kiss before starting to speak, lips brushing mine with each word. "God, Ben. Do you have any idea how gorgeous I find you? Sometimes when I see you it's all I can do to keep myself from dropping to my knees and begging for your cock down my throat. I look at the way your guitar strap rubs against your neck and all I can think about is licking and biting at your throat until I've marked you as mine...."  
  
I pushed up against the penetration of his fingers, desperation driving stammered words "I am, I am. Oh god, Lar. Make love to me."  
  
Larry caught my bottom lip between his as he eased his fingers from me, his kiss grounding. "Tell me if it's too much. I don't have poppers with me this time." He seemed anxious despite the joke, and I smiled, reaching up to kiss him as I pulled him on top of me.  
  
"Just need you. Like this. Come on, love...."  
  
He nodded, eyes moving over me hungrily as he pulled back to roll on a condom. I could almost feel the heat of his gaze. "God, I wish you could see how gorgeous you are right now...."  
  
I drew a shivering breath, pulling him into a kiss as he pressed against me. "Tell me."  
  
The shivering intensity of penetration was nothing compared to my lover's throaty groan as he captured my mouth, stealing my breath as he slowly rocked deeper. "You're so fucking hot, you drive me out of my wits," he breathed, nipping at my bottom lip. "I see you and I want to kiss you 'till I can't breathe, want to grind up against you and beg for you to fuck me. No one's ever turned me on like you do. I wrap my fingers around my cock and think about you when I jerk myself, you're every fantasy and wet dream I have...."  
  
Each rock of his hips drove a wave of pleasure through me, but it was his words that held and overwhelmed me, and I dug my fingers into his back for purchase as my head fell back against the pillows. "God yes, more - "  
  
He gave a harder thrust, breath in hot pants against my skin, muscles bunched and shuddering as I clenched at his back. "Oh fuck, Ben. Love the way you move on stage, love how your jeans curve over your gorgeous ass, love the way you smile when you want to fuck me and when you don't and when you see me in the morning and I - " His gasped cry sounded almost like a sob, lips trembling against my throat. "Love you so fucking much, Ben, always and always - "  
  
"Shhh..." I caught his face, forcing him to slow, kissing him until his breath calmed. For a moment I savored the unhurried rock of our bodies, the slide of his cock as he filled me. "Sit back. Let me ride you."  
  
Moments later I was settled in his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, kissing him slowly as my body learned how to move on him, slowly rocking until each buck of my hips filled me with a pleasure to match the sweet adoration in my lover's eyes. Larry's hands smoothed worshipfully over my hips and back, one finally curling around my aching cock, stroking slow with the movement of my hips. This was what I needed. More than just pleasure, I needed the warmth of his touch and his smile and his kisses, the wonder in his eyes when he looked at me, the hitched, helpless groans I drew from his throat as passion spurred me on. I let myself sink into the intensity of the familiar with the newess of our love, and when my pleasure finally crested my lips formed gasped promises of love that became my entire world.  
  
"Thank you," I breathed, cuddling into him and feeling his lips press to my temple. "Needed that."  
  
"Me too," he murmured, arms tightening around my shoulders. His fingers stroked slow patterns on my spine before he finally hummed. "This mean you'll fuck me in the morning?"  
  
I chuckled softly, lifting my face to indulge in soft kisses. "Mmhmm. Love fucking you in the morning. And evening. And every other time, love. My love."  
  
It didn't take long to clean up and settle into bed despite not being able to bring myself to completely let go of him. Sated and content, I curled into his bare form, nestling my face into his neck and breathing deeply of his scent. Larry gave a soft, appreciative noise, arms tightening around me, his body warm and languid in the afterglow of sex. It didn't matter what we'd been through. We were here now. Together.  
  
"You were my first, you know." Larry's voice was soft and strangely shy, pressing his lips to my hair.  
  
"Kiss?" I replied, thinking back to our childhood and remembering the taste of popsicle on his lips, then later, whiskey.  
  
Larry laughed softly. "Well, yes. And the first time we went to bed together, and... the first time we had sex."  
  
I drew back to look at the little smile that played on his lips. "... really?"  
  
He nodded. "I mean, there were other things by the time we actually had sex... I'd experimented on my own with toys and there was fingers and blow jobs, just never...."  
  
It made me feel warm and a little self conscious, and I leaned in to kiss him warmly, stroking my fingers through his hair. "I... I'm honored."  
  
"You were important to me," Larry replied softly, keeping close, lips a soft caress on mine. "Always wanted you to be part of my life. Even if you just wanted to stay friends. So I wanted it with you instead of just some two day boyfriend, I...."  
  
"I know." I leaned in to claim his words with a kiss, stroking my fingers through his hair. The knowledge was overwhelming, somehow making it hit home how real this was. When I spoke my voice was lower than I'd intended, forced through a throat tight with emotion. "You were my first, too. The kiss, that time, before my wedding... always wanted it with you."  
  
"Perfect," Larry breathed, and despite the exhausting day we'd had, I began to hope that we wouldn't get much sleep after all.  
  
~~~~


	5. Act 5: Resolution

****  
Daniel Schreber  
  


            When my brother and Larry came back from the parkade, we didn't have time to talk. I had their costumes laid out, and immediately set to helping them strip down and change. The encore costumes were more comfortable - baggy black cargos for Larry with messy flora-based patterns bleached into the bottom and pockets. Ben's black jeans were distressed in careful vertical tears that ran all the way up the legs, lined in black cotton to keep him decent. Larry had a bulky white canvas vest to finish the look, and Ben a recently mad sleeveless printed white knit shirt.

            Ben was noticeably more relaxed - they both were - and it was obvious that whatever they'd worked out, it had been very good for both of them. I smiled at Larry while Ben stuffed his feet back into his clunky platform ankle boots, and Larry flushed slightly in the dim light, smiling back before they both turned and followed John back onstage for the encore.

            I hadn't had much time alone with John to talk before the show, and when I'd managed to get him alone in the dressing room Ben had been my bigger concern. I'd told him to ignore my brother’s instructions and introduce 'Sometime Around Midnight' anyway, but I hadn't expected he'd take it as far as he did. Still, it seemed to be the perfect push, and I could finally relax.

            "You realize Ben's either going to kiss you or kill you." I'd told him when he came off stage with Leon, waiting with towels for both of them. I helped wipe down John's bare chest from the sweat of the stage lights, amused despite my words.

            "Yeah," he'd replied, giving me a sheepish grin and shrugging. "I figured at this point it couldn't really make things any worse... right?"

            "I hope so." I'd helped him into the tattered white short sleeved shirt of his next outfit. It had been ripped apart and fixed so many times that I wasn't sure that any part of the shirt was still original. "My brother is a complicated man, and he's had his trust shattered too many times. He will forgive you for being with me and not telling him, given a little time."

            "Hopefully he'll have something nicer to distract him from me," John had replied with a grin, changing into a pair of slim fitting black slacks with silver eyelets set down the side seams, grabbing a bottle of water and drinking as I moved to help Leon.

            Now that they were back on stage, I had little to focus on besides bundling the costumes together, taking everything back to the dressing room and sorting it into piles for cleaning. Most of it would go out to a local dry cleaners tonight that I'd contracted who would do it overnight to be ready for when we left for Paris late tomorrow afternoon. The handful of leather pieces I planned to wash myself, or at least until we got to Frankfurt where there was a cleaning service for leather I trusted enough to hand over the pieces to. I'd been disappointed with the handling they'd received on the west coast tour, and while Ben had just laughed and affectionately called me his little perfectionist, I refused to let any of my work be handled in sub-standard fashion if I could help it.

            Perhaps I'd have to weasel my way onto the next tour as well. It would mean less time in my own studio, of course, but I could still do concept work on the road, had full access to the internet to source materials and place orders, and there would be more time with John....

_John says he's in love with you._

            I sank down onto one of the dressing room chairs and did up the zipper on the duffel bag that had the leather pieces in it, letting out a long breath. It was a thought I hadn't been quite ready to face. Something about being with John always made me feel helpless, caught up in a whirlwind of passion and emotion. He'd swept me off my feet within weeks of meeting, making his attraction obvious with the little accidental touches, the looks he'd give me. With the fact that he seemed to find any excuse possible to come to my studio. He'd finally caught my hand one evening, lifting it to his lips and asking me to dinner, and while I hadn't been comfortable going out with him I had taken him home with me.

            Such was the start of our year and a half long affair. When he was on tour we'd talk over the phone or internet late at night after his shows and requisite after-events were finished, conversations that inevitably turned salacious, his voice seducing me just as effectively as he seduced the crowds at their concerts. It surprised me that he'd take the time to call me almost every night even with the busy schedule on a tour, but I always made it worth his while.

            When he was in New York he was with me, bringing dinner to my studio or my apartment late at night when we were finally both done work, making love until we both fell asleep in languid exhaustion. I'd ended up cleaning out a drawer in my bureau where he kept a few outfits and personal effects, and more than once I'd been tempted to ask him to just move in with me: he was at my apartment more than he was his own. There were always my concerns about Ben that kept me from it, however, and more than that... no matter how tender he was with me, how regularly he came to me or called me... part of me was convinced that this would end sooner or later. That I wouldn't be enough to keep up with his passion, his career. That he'd meet someone on the road and fall in love.

            It had been hard to accept my own feelings for him at first, and I'd told myself over and over that it was just an affair. When I couldn't deny any longer the way my heart would flutter in my chest at the mere sight of him or his phone number on my call display, well... then I convinced myself that I would live out our affair as fully as possible, relish every moment of it to cherish after the inevitable end.

            There was nothing planned after that night's concert, thankfully. I went back to the hotel early while they helped with tear down so that I could launder the leather with baby shampoo in the hotel bathtub, hanging the pieces to dry overnight so that they could be packed before we left for Paris the next afternoon. I'd just finished when I heard the beep of my spare key card in my door followed by a soft knock and John slipping inside. He had a large bouquet of red roses in his arms, and I stared at it as I met him at the bathroom door. "John! What's this?"

            "For you," he replied with a smile, offering them to me. "They're new, not from the dressing room. An apology."

            It seemed so ridiculous that I had to laugh, shaking my head and taking them from him. The hotel had ornamental ceramic vases next to the TV, and I took one of these to put them in, filling it with water. "I don't need flowers, John. Or an apology."

            He gave a little sigh, following me into the room as I set the flowers next to the TV. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and I couldn't help but relax back into them, closing my eyes for a moment and just listening as he spoke. "I told your brother about us. You asked me not to."

            "Yes," I replied, Ben's words racing through my mind. I swallowed. "It's all right. I shouldn't have asked you to keep it from him. And I do appreciate the sentiment, but you really should tell him the truth."

            John sounded a little confused. "What do you mean?"

            I turned in his arms, mouth suddenly going dry. I didn't want to talk about this, irrationally worried that he'd see the truth in it as well and move on sooner rather than later. "John... you're a rock star. I won't be enough for you forever, surely you must know that."

            He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "I don't...."

            I looked away from him, feeling my ears heat up. "You told him you were in love with me.

            "Daniel... I am in love with you."

            I closed my eyes for a moment, caught in the conflicting rush of emotions. I wanted his love so badly, but... "Please don't say that."

            "Why not? It's the truth. I'm sorry, I..." he stopped a little helplessly. "Why else would I stay with you for hours on Skype after a concert just to talk, just to see you? I don't want anyone else but you, I've been in love with you since before I even had the balls to ask you out, I - "

            "Don't," I said again, pulling away from his embrace and wrapping my arms around myself. "John, please...."

            "Why don't you want me to love you?"

            "Because it will only make it harder when you leave," I replied before I could stop myself, and drew a deep, shivering breath. "I won't always be here, John. You'll realize sooner or later that I'm not a match to your life, that I can't keep up with your passion - "

            "You inspire my passion," he replied, a little helplessly. "You're so beautiful, so passionate. I can't even stop thinking about you, and the longer I know you the more I love you, Daniel. I can't stop calling you, and being without you is torture. Why else do you think I tried so hard to get you here?" John stopped and was silent for a long moment, letting out a long sigh. When he spoke again his voice was leaden, forced calm to cover the hurt. "This is just sex for you, isn't it?"

            I gave a soft, helpless laugh. I should lie, I should agree with him, but I couldn't bring myself to. "Of course not. John, I am desperately in love with you."

            The worry fell away from his expression immediately, mouth turning into the smallest of smiles. "Really?"

            "Why else would I stay on Skype with you until three in the morning when I have fittings at eight am the next day?"

            John's little smile had grown to a grin almost impossibly wide. He caught me up in his arms, holding me tight, face pressed to his hair. "Then I'm never ever leaving you."

            I felt a rush of joy despite my rationalizations. "John, didn't you listen to anything else I said?”

            "Of course I did," he replied, pressing a warm kiss to the corner of my jaw. "Love trumps everything. God, I love you."

            I relaxed into his embrace despite myself. It was always hard to resist getting caught up in John's emotions, his excitement, and god but I wanted this. "Are you sure?"

            "I've turned down so many groupies on tour just to go back to the hotel and talk to you," he replied, trailing soft kisses along my jaw to my mouth. "Boys too. Not because I thought I should, but they just... no one else arouses me anymore. I love you too much. I love being with you too much. I'm completely spoiled by you, Daniel."

            "Move in with me," I whispered against his mouth before I could stop myself, and John gave a low, happy moan, pulling me closer.

            "Thought you'd never ask," he replied, and his kisses grew more yearning, his hands slipping down to cup my ass, hips pressing to mine. I gave a low groan at the tease of sensation, always so easily aroused by his touch and kisses, by memories of our passion and my body's craving for more.

            "You're not too tired for this?" I asked breathlessly, and he laughed, squeezing my ass as he started to trail kisses down my throat.

            "Never too tired for sex with you." John's voice was warm and alluring, hips rocking slowly against my quickly hardening cock. "Performing always makes me want to fuck you."

            I shuddered against him at his words, tugging his shirt from his pants to stroke the bare skin underneath. "Oh god, John...." I whimpered at the tease of his teeth on my throat, his fingers moving to tug open the buttons of my shirt so that he could nip and suck at my shoulder, already marked with little kiss bruises. I liked the slight tease of pain, the intensity of being claimed by him, the knowledge of his marks hiding under my clothes. I pulled his shirt off over his head, stroking my hands over the warmth of his skin, touching what hundreds of fans reached for every night.

            He was already working on the closure of my jeans, mouth hot on my neck, nipping at my earlobe. "I have the most dirty, inappropriate thoughts about fucking you on stage...."

            I drew a sharp breath, mind suddenly flooding with far too many mental images, most of them involving a mostly naked John in leather pants, body sweat-streaked and heated from performing and the stage lights. "Mr. Bumstead would kill us."

            "Of course. But it's fun to think about, isn't it?" John tugged down my slacks and undershorts as he spoke, kicking off his own and walking me backwards towards the bed. His breath was hot against my ear. "Just imagine it, having sex on the floor behind Larry's drums, or sitting on his stool while you straddle my lap... or standing on the floor and bending you over the edge of the stage...."

            "Or standing at your mic," I whispered before I could stop myself. John stopped, sliding his hands down to cup my ass as he pulled back to look at me, eyes dark with desire. I swallowed hard, smoothing one hand down to curl around his cock, stroking him slowly. "Would you like that?"

            John arched up into my touch with a low, appreciative groan, eyes narrowing slightly. "Right there where anyone could walk in and see us? God yes." He claimed my mouth again, kisses hungry and hard to match his words, one hand reaching to pull open the drawer of my bedside table and fumbling inside. His voice was husky as he pulled back to tear open a packaged condom with his teeth. "Turn around."

            I did without question, heart pounding in my ears, feeling hot and flushed and aching with desire. I glanced back at him over my shoulder. "On my hands and knees?"

            "Just stay like that," he replied, pressing up against my back and leaning around me to catch my mouth again. John's kisses always made my heart catch in my throat, deep and slow and yearning, teasing my lips and tongue with the tip of his own before delving deeper, kissing me breathless. His fingers pressed down the crease of my ass as he did, stroking me gently, teasing without penetration until I tried to press back against him with a little needy whimper.

            "You need more?" John's voice was breathless with desire though still a little teasing, and his fingers pulled back for a moment to return slick with lube, two pressing inside me carefully, the shivering ache of penetration making me moan.

            "Please," I gasped, pressing back against him, whimpering as his fingers twisted just so, sending a rush of intensity up my spine. " _Mein Gott_ , John...."

            "Love it when you do that," he growled, nipping at the side of my neck, pushing in a third finger along with the first two, his cock hard against my hip as he fucked me with even thrusts of his fingers. "You sound so damn sexy. Love it almost as much as these beautiful little fucked out sounds you make when I play with your tight little ass."

            I couldn't help but moan at that, feeling almost painfully hard, the expert twists of his fingers making me whimper helplessly. "Do it, then. Please, John." I turned my face to kiss and nip at his lips, lowering my voice. I knew he wouldn't understand me - I'm not sure I could have said it if he did - but it still sent a rush of arousal through me to say it. " _Fickt mich mal von hintern._ "

            "Oh god." John's fingers eased away, leaving me empty and aching, and I half expected to be pushed down onto the bed. Instead he pulled me close, one arm tight around my waist to hold me in place as the head of his cock pressed against me, slowly easing inside me, my body stretching around the thick flared head. "Oh fuck, Daniel. Anything you want, anything you say...."

            All I could do was gasp for breath and rock back against him, feeling controlled and a little vulnerable, though his arm around my waist anchored me as he slowly rocked deeper. We hadn’t fucked like this before, and the penetration was incredibly intense, my entire body feeling stretched open and owned by him. I reached to catch his hip to hold him to me, leaning back into him with a throaty groan. "God, so good...."

            "We could do this on stage," John breathed, mouthing at my neck, rocking in me slowly and sending shudders of sensation through me with each thrust. "Right in front of the mic stand. So I could hear every little whimper, every shuddering breath... god, you're so tight like this - !"

            I managed a whimper of agreement, both hands clenched at his hips just to steady myself, to work with the slow, deep thrusts of his hips. The position felt too precarious to fuck any faster, but it was intoxicating to revel in this for a while, to close my eyes to the press of John's mouth to my skin, the achingly perfect slide of his thick cock inside me, brushing up just right inside me and making my body shudder with each pulse of sensation. His free hand stroked down over my chest and torso, finally taking my throbbing cock in hand, fingers still a little slick with lube as he stroked the length of my shaft, making me gasp. "More - !"

            John gave a low groan against my skin, nipping a little roughly at the crook of my neck. "Lean over the bed and rest on your hands." His fingers clenched at my hips, holding me in place as he buried himself inside me. Once I was somewhat braced against the bed again he began to move again, bucking up into me, moving faster and harder, pushing me up onto my tiptoes with the force of each thrust. "Oh god. Oh fuck, Daniel - !"

            The frantic pace and the force of his thrusts were overwhelming, and all I could do was move with him, fingers clenched in the sheets, crying out with each surge of pleasure he pushed through me. John knew my body well, knew how to drive me crazy, how to make me gasp and shudder with pleasure. Even like this, the sex wild and frantic and sudden, he hit up against my sweet spot and drew me quickly close to climax. "Please," I gasped, shuddering against him, aching with the need for release. "God, love, please - !"

            "Let me feel you come," he breathed, rocking up into me again and again as my passion crested, my body clenching tighter around him as pleasure pulsed through me hard and hot. I couldn't hold back my choked cries of pleasure, bucking back against him as I came, lost to the sensation of our bodies moving together. John finally joined me, thrusting erratically through his own climax, gasping my name.

            It was easy to let myself be taken care of after that, wiped down and tugged into bed. He always took care of me, leaving me feeling unexpectedly cherished. But for the first time I let myself believe that the feeling was true. That this was real.

            "I love you, John," I murmured softly, and felt his arms tighten around my shoulders.

            "Love you," he echoed, nuzzling along my jaw, dropping soft kisses along my skin to my mouth.  "So lucky to have you."

            I'd questioned my commitment to the band before, wondering if I should have devoted so much to this instead of my own pursuits. But I'd never questioned my commitment to John.

            "You're already with me on stage, you know," John murmured sleepily as we cuddled together, nuzzling my hair. "Everything people see is you. Everything that makes me beautiful."

            "You're beautiful just on your own," I replied, leaning up to kiss him. "Why else do you think I agreed to this job to begin with?"

            John gave a happy little hum against my mouth, and I couldn't regret leaving my plans behind for this for one moment.

***

 

**Larry Byrne**

            Frank had arranged the use of private lounges for waiting for flights when we flew, and for the most part the airports were more than happy. It was easier to control crowds, that way. He came up to us in the lounge, glancing over to where Daniel and John had settled down together on one of the banks of seats beside their carry-on with their luggage, much closer than was strictly friendly. Frank shook his head. "If you guys have no issues, I'm going to cancel three of the room reservations and double everyone up. Figure it'll save us about thirty grand over the rest of the trip, and there's... there's really no damn point in not doing it."

            "Three?" I asked questioningly, and Frank glanced over to where Leon was perched cross-legged on one of the other benches, typing on Frank's laptop. He gave a helpless shrug.

            "Might as well, since everyone else is out. We weren't involved when I recommended him to you, you know."

            Ben shrugged. "He's a good fit. I wouldn't have minded if you were. Doesn't matter now, anyway. Long as we can keep things casual for the media."

            "We could always double date with May and Anna," I suggested to him. "Take then out for dinner."

            Ben frowned, shaking his head slowly, glancing to where the two women in question stood at the windows overlooking the runway, watching the planes. "No... no, they're good girls, I don't want to mess with them like that."

            "I'm pretty sure they're lesbians, so as long as we're up front about it there's no harm in a date or two," I replied, quirking an eyebrow when both Ben and Frank looked at me quizzically. "What? You straight men have absolutely no gaydar."

            "I'm not - " Ben started to protest, but I turned before he could finish.

            "Hey, May!"

            The blonde turned, giving me a warm smile. "Yeah, sugar?"

            "You're into girls, right?"

            She giggled, sharing a smile with Anna, the meaning unmistakable. "Sure am, honey. Someone has to make up for your lack of it, you know."

            "I love you," I replied, and she laughed, turning back to Anna as I looked to the others. "See?"

            "I'll think about it," Ben replied, flushing slightly, and left to plop down on the end of the bank of seats across from John and Daniel.

            Frank had one hand over his eyes. "I'm managing the gayest damn band in the history of the universe."

            "And you wouldn't have it any other way." I left to sprawl out along the bench with Ben, leaning back against him. Leon turned around from Frank's laptop to smile at me, pulling the ear buds from his ears.

            "There's a lot of buzz about last night's concert," he said with a grin. "More so than usual. The tapers got at least four different recordings of you up for download, one of them's pretty decent, too. You want to hear it?"

            I felt my face heat up. "I think I'm good. I'm still surprised I didn't make the audience spontaneously combust from auditory pain."

            Leon laughed. "You're not bad at all. Here, have a listen. The fans think you need to record it as a B-side for our next single."

            Beside me, Ben shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same. Let's just leave it as is."

            He was right, I realized. Performing it had been an incredible catharsis for me, and I know he'd heard it in my voice. Now that things were resolved between us I doubted I could do it again. "That and I'd break every CD player we put the disc into."

            Leon rolled his eyes, smiling as Frank sat down next to him. "Tell Larry his singing was good."

            "It was," Frank replied, and I stared at him. It wasn't like him to bullshit. "It was rough and untrained, but the performance was solid. But we won't make you sing it in the studio. It wouldn't work."

            "Exactly," I agreed, but Frank wasn't finished.

            "We did, however, get a really good recording off the soundboard. If it seems like there's enough demand we'll make it the B-side to 'Endless Nightmare'."

            "What? Are you fucking crazy?"

            "I'm your manager," Frank replied, looking like he was trying very hard not to smile. "You hired me because I could market you better than you market yourselves. Trust me."

            I shook my head. "Except when you're fucking crazy, and then I veto you."

            "I wouldn't mind making it a B-side," Ben said, voice strangely soft, and I glanced over to find him watching me with a little smile playing about his lips. I felt a wave of heat wash over me, and not all of it was from self-consciousness.

            I tried to force it away, clearing my throat. "Well. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad."

            John had stayed silent throughout the conversation, and I glanced over to find him still engrossed in the small netbook that he'd hooked into the airport's Wi-Fi. Daniel curled a little closer to him, looking more content than I'd ever seen him, his chin resting on John's shoulder. It seemed a good enough change of subject. "Found anything good, John?"

            John looked up with a grin. "I found porn!"

            I couldn't help but chuckle, despite Ben's groan. "I don't want to hear about it."

            "But it's amazing! All the things these people come up with... for instance, did you know it's traditional to welcome a new band member with a gang bang?"

            Behind me, Leon choked on his coffee. "What the hell are you talking about?"

            "Porn!" John replied gleefully. "Apparently Larry used to be a girl. And I've been pregnant with Ben's kid, however the hell that could be medically possible.  And I found this really hot one where you're both cops in New York doing fabulous things to each other with uniforms and handcuffs."

            "I was completely serious about the laundry," Ben said with a frown. "Enough about gay internet porn."

            "But you haven't even seen it! Ben, you won't believe how hilarious some of this stuff is. For instance I'm also a vampire, and there's a tentacle monster living in my bathroom that we all enjoy on a regular basis."

            "What the hell is a tentacle monster?" I sat up, leaning over and trying to see over the top of the laptop. "I haven't read that one."

            Before I could see anything, Ben reached out and closed the netbook, taking it away from him. "Enough! John, you're on laundry duty. You..." Ben looked at me and gave an exasperated little sigh. "Stop encouraging him."

            Frank turned around from the seat behind me, nodding. "He's right. If you pay attention to any one group of fans you'll start catering to them whether you mean to or not."

            "No homo-eroticism on stage." I nodded. "Got it."

            Ben closed his eyes for a moment, though I got the impression that although he acted indignant, he probably liked the idea. "I'm going for a cigarette," he said, and disappeared out onto the small veranda outside the lounge that was likely there for that very reason.

            John watched him go, and then leaned across to tug the netbook out of Ben's bag, turning it back on. "Okay, so he doesn't get to see the super hot cowboy artwork of you two."

            "Cowboy?" I shifted next to him as he clicked through the internet and stared at the resulting image, grinning, feeling my face heat up. "Oh. That kind of cowboy. That's, um. Nice artwork.”

            "Exactly," John replied with a grin, admiring it for a moment.

            Daniel sat up with a little shake of his head, turning away from the screen. "I hope you'll forgive me if I feel a bit perverse looking at artistic renditions of my brother engaged in sex. I'm relieved that I'm not in the band."

            "I'm disappointed, but I suppose the upside is that the only one fantasizing about our sex life is me." John grinned, and then paused with a strange, pondering look on his face. "Hey... do you know that if we abbreviate our band’s name we become ASS?"

            "Appropriate," Frank muttered, going back to his book.

            "Definitely better than KISS," Leon replied with a grin.  
  
***

 


	6. Coda: Truth or Dare

**Larry Byrne**

 

Standing in front of the hotel room curtain, Ben looked over at me helplessly. “Do I seriously have to do this? Can’t I play a get out of jail free card or something?”

“No free passes,” Leon said, attaching his camcorder to a tripod and adjusting the height. “If I can’t wussy out, neither can you.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, my dare wasn’t that bad.”

“You made me call my boyfriend and sing Celine Dion!”

Perched on edge of one of the hotel beds, John started snickering again. “Dammit, I’d give my left testicle to have seen Frank’s face.”

Daniel looked over to him with a frown. “You’re not giving away any testicles.”

“You could claim that this could be potentially damaging to the band’s reputation,” I suggested, ignoring Leon’s glare.

“It is not! This is gonna be awesome!”

“He’s right,” Ben admitted with a sigh. “In fact, it’s probably going to sell a few more albums.”

“Exactly,” Leon agreed, adjusting the angle of the camera. “Ready?”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing this once, so all you assholes better shut up.” Ben cleared his throat, looking over handwritten script I was holding up, then gave a nod to Leon, who pressed record.

“Hello, internet. My name is Ben Carson. Yes, the Ben Carson. Easy now. I put my pants on just like the rest of you -- one leg at a time. Except, once my pants are on, I make gold records. Guess what? I got a fever! And the only prescription.. is more cowbell. I gotta have more cowbell, baby!”

John collapsed into peals of laughter as Leon stopped the recording, and I couldn’t help but join him. Even Ben was grinning, moving back to sit on the other bed as Leon connected the camcorder to his laptop to upload the video to YouTube. “Shots all around, bitches.”

I knocked mine back. “Good job, love. And you’re way sexier than Christopher Walken.” I perched next to him, giving his thigh a squeeze. “Whose turn is it next?”

“Mine!” John’s response was gleeful, and I suddenly prayed that I wouldn’t end up on the receiving end of his spin. We’d ordered room service after the concert and cleared off the table, after Leon suggested a game of drunken Truth or Dare, which had seemed like a really good idea at the time. We’d since gone through both bottles of Vodka that had come complimentary with the room and moved on to doing shots of beer. John’s first spin had landed on me, and I’d had to go down the hall and ask the girls to put some of May’s red lipstick on me so that I could leave a kiss print on John’s ass. My lips were still suspiciously red.

I held my breath as the vodka bottle spun around, slowing and finally pointing to Daniel, who gave a soft groan.

“Finally,” Ben muttered, taking a swig of his beer.

“Truth or dare, darling,” John asked, following his words with a kiss on the cheek.

Daniel considered the options for a long moment, before finally offering a tentative, “...truth?”

John grinned at him, almost feral. “Okay. Who was the first person you ever slept with and how did it happen?”

Daniel’s expression stayed carefully neutral for a long moment. “Define sleeping with. The first man I went to bed with, slept beside or had sexual intercourse with?”

John’s grin widened slightly, like a kid in a candy store. “All of them.”

Daniel chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Only one question per round. Choose one, love.”

John let out a sigh, obviously conflicted by the choice. “Fine. Actual sex.”

For a brief moment I thought I saw a shade of worry on Daniel’s face, but it disappeared, and he grinned, leaning back and taking another swallow of his drink. “Well. Believe it or not the first time I had sex was when I was at FIT, here in New York. He was a very handsome, very well built boy from Hawaii from my marketing class. And how it happened was that he set off Grinder on my cell phone, and we spent all class sending each other dirty messages. But he had an astonishingly small penis, so I didn’t stick around long.”

John’s eyebrows knit slightly, disbelieving. “Here, at FIT? You can’t tell me you never slept with anyone in Germany.”

“Slept with, of course. I chose not to have sex with them, but there was plenty of action. Being Ben’s brother earned me a little... prestige, you can say.”

“Wait a minute.” Ben leaned forward. “You picked up men because you looked like me?”

Daniel gave his brother what could only be considered a teasing smirk. “You would be surprised how many beautiful gay men fantasize about blowing you, _mein Herz_.”

Something about what Daniel was saying sat wrong with me, and as I tried to pin it down it took me a second to realize where the conversation had gone. I grinned. “And none of them get him, because he’s all mine.”

“Undoubtedly,” Ben replied, slipping a hand in mine and giving a squeeze. “Hey, but didn’t you go home with one of our old roadies at my bachelor party?”

Daniel snorted. “Yes, but I didn’t have sex with him. He ended up being quite unintelligent. But he gave good head. And now I believe it’s my turn.” He leaned forward to spin the bottle, and suddenly I realized the cause of my nagging feeling. Daniel’s timeline was all wrong, which meant.... I felt my stomach twist into a knot.

Oh, _fuck_.

I got to my feet, stammering something about getting another drink and went out into the kitchenette that connected our rooms. There was a bottle of whiskey in the freezer that we hadn’t opened yet, so I cracked the seal and poured myself a generous amount in the bottom of a glass, adding ice cubes and trying to ignore the fact that my hand was shaking.

“I’m supposed to ask you truth or dare.” Daniel’s voice was soft behind me as he stood at the kitchen entrance, the door to the room pulled closed behind him.

“You cheated,” I blurted, setting my drink aside. “You _lied_.”

He gave a little shrug. “Perhaps a little.”

“A little?!” I took a large swallow of the whiskey, trying to calm my nerves. “Good god, Daniel... why didn’t you tell me?”

He leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t particularly want you to know, then or now. I considered it at the time, but decided against it considering that you were already... rather traumatized. It occurred to me halfway through the tale just now that I’d chosen a very poor lie, but John caught me off guard.”

“So you were actually - when we - “

Daniel returned my gaze with a little smile. “Yes.”

“But you seemed so... so...” I flailed for the right words. “Confident? _Non-virginal_?”

Daniel gave a soft laugh, glancing away, still smiling. “Would you believe me if I told you that it was because I’d already decided that I was going to sleep with you long before I met you? If you were interested, of course.”

“But you hardly knew me.”

“I knew enough,” Daniel replied, stepping closer and looking up at me. “Ben spoke the world of you. So I knew you would be....” he pausd for a moment, as if considering his words. “Safe. Good to me.”

The guilt was almost overwhelming. “Daniel, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Daniel reached up to stroked a hand through my hair affectionately, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Please don’t be. There were many things going on for me at that point in my life, including a man at home who I’d very much wanted to be my first but who broke my heart instead. I wanted to be with someone who was a good person and could show me a good time and stay in New York while I went safely back to Germany. You gave me exactly what I wanted, my friend. I have no regrets.”

“Okay,” I said, still trying to process everything. “Okay. I just... I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. You deserve better than... well.”

Daniel took the remains of the whiskey out of my hand and took a sip before handing it back. “Let me guess... you’re a romantic at heart that secretly thinks every first time should be perfect, with candles and everything?”

“Doesn’t have to have candles,” I muttered, swishing the last drops of whiskey and ice around in my glass and pondering more.

Daniel nodded slowly, watching me. “And I can guess that yours was either completely perfect or completely horrible.”

I felt my lips twitch up into a smile. Ben and I had only been sixteen, and it had been fumbled and a little awkward and neither of us had lasted long, but I couldn’t remember it as anything other than a warm, sunlit afternoon full of kisses and laughter and pleasure and... perfection.

Daniel gave a soft hum of understanding, taking the glass from me and setting it aside, slipping his arms up around my neck and giving me a warm hug. “Truth or dare, Mr. Byrne. Pick Truth.”

I sighed, returning the embrace and resting my face against his hair. “Truth.”

“All right.” He paused for a moment, and I could hear the smile in his voice, though his words were hardly louder than a murmur. “Would you say yes, if he asked you?”

“ _What?_ ” I pulled back to look at him in shock. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Daniel only smiled back enigmatically, seemingly doing his best Mona Lisa impression. “Simply a question. You know what I mean. Would you?”

“I....” I felt my face heat, and groped for the glass of whiskey, draining the remains.

“Larry?” Daniel’s touch on my arm was gentle and warm.

“Yes,” I muttered, staring down at the floor, and Daniel leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Good. Now I think we should go back in there and drag our boys to bed, yes?” He turned for the door, pausing when I called his name.

“Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“Why.... did you ask me that?”

“To give you something to obsess over besides the fact that you deflowered me,” he replied with a grin, and disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving me feeling like a fish out of water.

Goddammit. He’d definitely been hanging around John far too long.

  
*** The End ***


End file.
